


Closer You and I

by avatarlahey



Series: Make It To Me verse [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, And perfect scholar Zayn, Big Bang Challenge, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, basically every au mixed into one cauldron, future doctor Liam, growing up! AU, popular guy Niall, so much theatre references, soulmate! AU, theatre kid Louis, university! AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatarlahey/pseuds/avatarlahey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like learning the boy’s name brings about a new desire for Louis to see Harry all the time. If he can learn Harry’s name, then what else can he discover? So when Louis’ head hits the pillow every night, he wishes, he hopes, he prays that he’ll get to see Harry. And sometime he does and sometimes he doesn’t, but when he does, something awakens in Louis. A silly thought: being asleep, yet feeling more awake than ever. He supposes it’s Harry’s doing. </p><p>[Or, Louis likes to sleep, particularly because the only time he gets to see Harry is when he dreams.] </p><p>Featuring Louis’ ragtag team of best friends: Niall, Liam, and Zayn. Niall is the always popular childhood friend that miraculously knows exactly what to say at all times. Liam is the future Dr.McDreamy, self-diagnosed with lovesickness. And Zayn is a god amongst mortals with a fatal flaw of accepting love. Together, they help Louis uncover the mystery that is his literal dream boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 1dbigbang and inspired by all the crazy dreams I have.Thanks to the mods for all their hardwork and patience!  
> Special thanks to Kat for her support in everything I do.  
> And of course, a big and gracious thank you to the amazing [Marta](http://www.yvesaintomlinson.tumblr.com) for her [mix](http://8tracks.com/criminiall/closer-you-and-i/edit) Please go take a look!! The mix is amazing and fits perfectly with this story.  
> I did as much research as I could for certain subjects, everything else is fiction. Sorry for any glaring inaccuracies.  
> If you like listening to music as you read, I have hidden little links throughout your read. :)  
> Title comes from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ax6OvLusLmM) song. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Part 1**

_“We are the music-makers,_  
_And we are the dreamers of dreams,_  
_Wandering by lone sea-breakers,_  
_And sitting by desolate streams._  
_World-losers and world-forsakers,_  
_Upon whom the pale moon gleams;_  
_Yet we are the movers and shakers,  
_ _Of the world forever, it seems.”_

[*](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/we-are-the-music-makers/)

There are two constants in Louis’ life: his inability to cook a meal and Harry.

However, Louis has never met Harry. He has no idea who he is.

It’s difficult to explain, really.  

Here’s what’s not difficult: Harry has always been there.

Simple, really.

-

Nine year old Louis prides himself on his vivid imagination. His mum’s refrigerator is covered with his own drawings, top to bottom. They tell stories of daring swordfights, princesses and princes, talking dogs, and carnivorous burritos. His mom says that he’s a special one. Anyone would be lucky to have him in their life.

Louis wholeheartedly agrees, of course.

His teachers would like to think otherwise, however. He’s been sent to the corner more times than not, always for babbling about stories that he’s created in his mind or dreams that he’s had the night before.

Louis is a dreamer, always will be. He’s always excited to fall into a world all his own the second his head hits the pillow. That’s the coolest part about dreams, Louis thinks. Everything you see—it’s all yours. It’s _your_ creation. There’s no teacher to tell him no or rude classmates to ridicule him, _no way_. His dreams belong to _him_.

If he could, he would dream forever.

“Sleep well, love,” his mum says one night. She’s sitting on the foot of Louis’ bed, her gentle hands brush the hair out of his face, and her twinkly eyes gaze at Louis with adoration. Louis smiles happily as she bends down to kiss his forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She gets up, turning off Louis’ bedside lamp.

“What if you don’t?” Louis asks, his lips holding a playful smile. “What if I get stuck in my dreams?” He lets out a dramatic wail. _“Foooreeeveeer...”_

His mom rolls her eyes fondly. “Then it would be the saddest day of my life.”

She winks before shutting the door, and Louis is left in the dark. The only light is gifted to him by the moon, its beams filtering in through his blinds. Louis rolls over, burrowing himself into his plush solar system blanket. He makes himself as small as possible, squeezes his eyes shut, and shakes with great excitement.

“I want to dream about flying into space. I want to save the earth from purple martians,” Louis whispers to himself. His eyes widen. “What if I had a fiery ponytail that I could use as a weapon? Okay, let’s dream about that too.”

Louis does this. Squeezing his eyes shut, Louis always lists what he wants to dream about, as if he possesses a powerful connection to his dreamland.

Nevertheless, sometimes Louis’ wishes come true and his ideas are delivered to him in his dreams. And if they don’t, well who cares?  All of his dreams are adventures.

However, when Louis slips from reality, falling into a deep deep sleep, he finds himself not in space, but in a field of tall grass. He reaches up to feel his hair and no, there is no fiery ponytail.

No matter. There’s still more to be explored.

He walks through the grass, parting the blades as he furthers himself. Excitement bubbles in the pit of his stomach, his mind wandering to the possibilities of what lies behind the forest of green. Could it be a fire breathing dragon? Maybe a unicorn that would send him up to space? Who knows?

When Louis reaches the end of the towering grass, he sighs. It’s just more grass, vast and never ending. Louis surveys his surroundings. The field is painted with flowers of vibrant colors. The ground moves in waves under the wind’s light breeze and white puffy clouds creep along slowly.

This is not what he expected, but Louis can deal. He flops onto the soft ground, breathing in the clean air. He traces the clouds with his finger, as if the light blue sky is his canvas.

Just then, Louis hears a voice laughing. The sound causes Louis’ heart to flutter with something completely abnormal to him.

Louis jumps up, ready to meet his new companion. A young boy with a mop of curly hair and a jumper that’s way too big on him comes bursting through the tall grass. His eyes looks like a bush baby, Louis thinks. Or a frog. They’re the color of spring and Louis stares at him in wonder.

The young boy bounces from foot to foot as he looks around the area. Louis waits for their eyes to meet, but they never do.

The young boy jumps in the air with a joyful cry and sprints past Louis. With outstretched arms and through fits of giggle, every step the boy take is a clumsy twirl. _This boy_ , Louis thinks, _knows how to have fun._

“Wait!” Louis cries, running after him,“Wait for me!”

The boy stops, his hands on his hips. Louis comes to a halt beside him, panting.

“You’re fast!” Louis says, impressed.

The boy continues walking with a grin on his lips, his bare feet dragging on the carpet of grass—he ignores Louis.

“Um, okay,” Louis mumbles, following him. He shakes away the light sting of the boy’s snub.

“So...what are you doing?” Louis asks after further silence, his head tilted in curiosity.

Still, the boy gives no response. Louis quickly becomes agitated, waving a hand in front of the boy’s face. The boy looks on, and Louis didn’t think it was possible, but the curly haired boy’s smile becomes wider. He covers his mouth as giggles begin to escape his lips. _What’s so funny?_

A yellow butterfly flutters past Louis ear, and chooses to dance around the boy’s head. The boy chases after it with longing hands. _Oh great._

Louis wants to turn around and find adventure elsewhere, but there’s something about this child that draws Louis closer to him.The boy is swaying from side to side when Louis reaches him, the butterfly still orbiting around his head.

“So you’re not going to play with me?” Louis asks sadly, staring at the boy in front of him. The boy tilts his head up to the clouds, pointing and muttering different shapes. Louis folds his arms, growing more agitated by the second.

After a moment of the boy naming each cloud, Louis finally snaps. “That doesn’t even look like a dog! It looks like a rhino—if that!”

The boy simply sighs, twirling around yet again. Louis wonders why the boy finds it necessary to do that all the time.

Louis is fed up with being ignored. How dare this curly headed, pocket-sized boy deny someone like Louis? He’s the perfect companion! (And honestly, Louis' always wanted a friend)

He blocks the boy’s path, but he makes no attempt to go around Louis. Oddly, he looks past Louis with bright green eyes and Louis wonders if the boy can see Louis at all. It’s like he’s staring straight through him!

Louis reaches out to touch him but the boy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even notice the hand on his shoulder.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Louis shouts. Not even a blink.

 _Weird_ , Louis thinks. The boy just laughs before skipping past Louis, flailing his arms about.

Quickly, Louis’ annoyance towards the boy diminishes. He figures that the boy can’t see or hear him. Like Louis is some super stealthy, invisible superhero. That’s gotta be it.

Because really, who wouldn’t want to play with Louis?

The boy now has his arms stretched out horizontally, making airplane noises with his mouth. He’s soaring through the field, stopping to giggle before continuing on with the noises. He’s so happy, and Louis finds himself drawing closer and closer, like a moth to a dazzling flame.

So Louis decides: If you can’t beat them, join them.

He runs after the boy, his arms outstretched, mimicking his sound effects. “I’m right behind you!”

It’s like this for a while: making noises at nothing, chasing dragon flies and uttering battle cries. Loud notes of pure, unadulterated laughter. _Joy_.

Louis swerves around the boy, dancing around him. Louis believes that he can fly just like the birds high in the sky as he runs around the boy, the grass tickling his feet. He yells at the curly headed boy with words that fall on empty ears, laughing beside _him_.

The boy halts and Louis stops with him. He watches as the boy closes his eyes, peacefully taking a deep breath. He falls to the ground with a sigh, clearly enjoying the nature that surrounds him. This kid is literally basking in the sunlight and Louis can’t help but be bewildered by this boy’s pure bliss.

Louis joins him on the ground, a good distance between them. The boy looks at the sky and Louis looks at him.

The boys hums a familiar song and Louis scoots closer to him. He turns his head towards Louis’ direction. Louis’ breath hitches, believing that the boy will _finally_ make eye contact with him and actually see him.

Just before the boy’s eye’s reaches his, Louis wakes up.

The image of the field leaves him and Louis wonders what in the world just happened to him.

-

Louis spends a couple of days with the memory of his dream in the back of his mind. It was just a one time thing, he tells himself. One time Louis dreamt that he was riding a unicorn in a rainstorm of salad tossings, so why would he let himself get so worked up about some little boy?

One day, Louis bursts in through his front door, cheeks stained with tears.

“Lou, is that you?” He hears his mum shout from the kitchen.

“Yeah!” Louis says, biting down a sob. He hastily tip toes his way through the living room. All he has to do is get past the kitchen and—

“Come in the kitchen then, I’ve made you a snack!”

Louis throws his backpack on the ground, storming towards the staircase, and expertly avoiding his mother’s gaze. “Can’t eat! I have mountains of homework! Thanks anyway, mum!”

“You are nine years old Louis Tomlinson, you do not have that much homework!” He hears his mum yell. He doesn’t even have to see her to know that she’s rolling her eyes at his antics.

He shuts his bedroom door behind him, leaning against it as he draws a long breath. It’s just another one of those days.

Louis’ reflection is staring back at him with eyes that burn and a deep frown. He takes slow steps to his mirror, using the quietness in the room to calm him. But in his reflection he sees the scrapes on his skin, the dried blood on his shirt and the cut above his eye.

His friends could be so mean sometimes.

It had been a normal day as Louis trailed behind the older kids from his neighborhood, following them home from a long day of school. They were talking about a new kid in their school. He isn’t normal apparently. He has two moms—which made the whole conversation really confusing for Louis. How is that not normal? So he said it out loud, _‘how is that not normal?’_ And so they said a few things back and maybe got a little physical, but hey, they're the only friends Louis has.

And maybe Louis shouldn’t have called the much larger group of boys barbaric butt munchers when disagreeing with them.

He recoils as he places a gentle hand on his scraped cheek, remembering the choice of words being thrown at him as he was pushed to the ground. _Poof. Twink. Queen_. So maybe they aren’t really his friends, Louis thinks as he recalls the countless times that the slurs had been said in his nine years of living. _Oh there’s Crazy Louis again, pretending he’s some superhero._

They mock his dreams when dreams are all Louis have. In fact, he wouldn’t mind one right now.

He flops onto his bed, burrowing himself into the safety of his warm blankets. Maybe he can hide here forever—at least until his battle scars heal. He feels his eyelids droop as his thoughts begin to settle.

And for the record, he would love to be a queen.

***

Louis isn’t in his bed anymore. He’s lost in a field of rolling greens and colorful flowers and— _oh no_. This place looks familiar. As he frantically looks around, the memory of his strange dream starts to come back to him. This is the grass that him and his mystery boy rolled around in, these are the flowers the mystery boy collected, and these are the fluffy white clouds they both happily observed together.

Where is this boy anyway?

Louis fights the excitement of the idea of seeing the smaller boy again as his eyes scour the sunny environment. As weird as it was for Louis to have spent time with a person who didn’t acknowledge his existence, he had enjoyed it. Up until then, Louis had never had a playdate that didn’t end in the other calling Louis a weirdo. And who knows? Maybe the boy will talk to Louis this time.

Finally, Louis spots a head of curls peeking from the other side of the most prettiest and biggest tree Louis has ever seen. Excitement wheels through him as he sprints to the large oak tree.

“Hey! You!” Louis shouts, skidding to a stop in front of the young boy. He’s curled into the thick roots of the tree, an endearing smile stretching across his lips as he fiddles with a pile of flowers.

“Hey…you…” Louis says, softer this time. He takes a seat in front of the boy, his shoulder back and his spine straight (because if anyone is the leader in this new relationship, it’s him).

Louis spends a few silent moments observing the boy. As wonderful as this place around them is, Louis only has eyes for him.

He just has to be patient. Maybe this boy is afraid of people? Louis would hate to scare him.

“What’re you doing?” Louis says to no avail. Instead, the boy continues to construct what Louis thinks is a necklace of some sort.

The boy speaks, soft and concentrated. “Gemma will love this.”

“I reckon Gemma will,” Louis replies. He shrugs.“Whoever they are. Want help?”

The boy does not respond, which neither surprises or stops Louis. He takes it upon himself to search for the prettiest flowers, returning every few minutes to add on to the boy’s pile before venturing out to find more.

The last time Louis comes back, it seems that the boy is done, proudly displaying three flower chains. Louis thinks it’s quite cute when the boy places one daintily on his own head, a glowing smile stretching across his face.

Suddenly, Louis struggles with forming words, as he’s transfixed by this ball of pure warmth in front of him. A nervous energy bounces inside him, which Louis finds confusing because normally he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“I-I-uh,” Louis stutters. _Louis, you idiot._ “I—"

“Harry! Time to go!”

The curly haired boy— _Harry_ —stands up, quickly scooping up his belonging and taking off. “I’m coming!”

“Bye Harry!” Louis finally calls out just before Harry disappears into the tall field of grass. A twinge of disappointment washes over Louis, until his eye catches a crumpled up flower chain that Harry must’ve forgotten. It’s a mix of white and velvety red, which so happens to be Louis’ favorite color. Feeling quite smug, he places it around his neck.

Harry totally made this for him, Louis thinks, he just doesn’t know it.

_Harry. Harry. Harry._

Louis is too young to understand why the name sounds so right on his lips.

-

It’s like learning the boy’s name brings in a new desire for Louis to see Harry all the time. If he can learn Harry’s name, then what else can he discover? So, when Louis’ head hits the pillow every night he wishes, he hopes, he prays that he’ll get to see Harry.

And sometime he does and sometimes he doesn’t. But when he does, something awakens in Louis.

A silly thought—being asleep but feeling more awake than ever.

He suppose it’s Harry’s doing.

Sadly, nothing changes. It’s the same every time. As in, Louis appears in what feels like an artistic landscape, and luckily, stumbles across Harry, who still completely ignores Louis’ existence. But one day, Louis likes to believe, one day, this spell will break and Harry will finally see Louis. Then they can be the friends that they were meant to be.

Louis’ mum begins to question Louis’ insatiable need to sleep all the time. It gets to be a little tiresome for her. She starts to worry, limiting his frequent naps and making sure he spends a good amount of time outside playing footy.

That’s when 10 year old Louis meets Niall. He finds him dribbling a football by himself, a small blonde boy with his tongue weirdly sticking out and cheeks flushed with concentration. It isn’t until he notices Louis watching him does he fix his posture and toughen his expression. Louis decides he must talk to him.

“Hey! Wanna play?” Louis asks cheerfully, hardly falling for the blonde boy’s exterior.

The boy’s tough facade falls and immediately, he beams up at Louis and says with a thick accent, “I was hoping you’d ask me! Are ya any good?” Definitely irish.

“The best.”

“So am I,” he quickly says. The boy attempts to cooly bounce the ball but to Louis’ amusement, the ball ricochets right back into the boy’s face. Moaning, he tosses the ball to Louis. “I lied.”

“I don’t care,” Louis shrugs to which Blondie responds with a hopeful smile. “C’mon, I’ll teach you then.”

They play till sunset. During that time, Louis learns that the boy’s name is Niall and that his dad’s new job brought his family here. He’s in Louis’ year and is super nervous to start school. He also claims that he’s going to be a musical legend. They have fun. Louis laughs when Niall misses the ball and Niall laughs just to laugh.

“You getting hungry yet?” Niall says after Louis beats him for what seems like the billionth time. He’s bent over, panting and staring up at Louis with eyes that say, _please say yes, please say yes, please say yes._

“Not really,” Louis says with a swift kick towards Niall.

Niall receives the ball, shaking off his amusing disbelief at Louis’ comment. “Well I’m hungry! I’m so hungry, I could eat anything! I’ve never been more hungrier in my life!” Which Louis will come to learn as false, because that’s Niall Horan and everyday he’s hungrier than the last.

Louis’ too focused on keeping the ball close to him when he says, “I once had a dream that a burrito chased me through Buckingham Palace. It was very hungry.” As soon as the words come out of Louis mouth, he realizes their irrelevancy. He refuses to look at Niall, who is probably staring at Louis with disgust, ready to dash away from the boy who’s off his rocker. He’s seen it before, too used to the inevitable _‘you’re weird!’_ and the rejected feeling of being left alone to play by himself.

Instead, he finds Niall burrowing his face in his hand, howling with laughter. Louis’ upper lip quirks, and a breath that he didn’t know he was holding escapes as the tension in his body diminishes.

“That’s amazing!” Niall hoots. “What happened next?”

That’s basically how Louis seals the deal—Niall is a keeper.

But even as Louis starts to find true friendship in Niall, he can’t forget Harry. Being with Niall was different than being with Harry--he just can’t explain why.

Even Niall starts to notice.

“But why can’t you come over again?” Niall whines one day in class. Louis rolls his eyes.

They’re supposed to be doing group work, but Niall and Louis are hardly contributing.

“At first, I was flattered by your little crush on me, Ni. But now it’s just become overbearing,” Louis says.

He’s 12 years old now, and if his sass continue to grow as it has in the past few years, then surely the earth will combust. Well, that’s what his mum says at least.

Niall lightly shoves Louis. “Tosser.”

The rest of the group shoot Niall a dirty look.

“I’m brainstorming!” Niall says defensively, violently waving his very empty notebook around.  He lowers his voice. “Seriously, are you hanging out with Harry again?”

Louis can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips.

Niall groans. “I don’t even know this guy, but you see him more than you see me!”

Yes, Louis does. However, that’s something Louis can’t control, because Harry only appears to him in his dreams--a small detail he ‘forgot’ to tell Niall.  

“You’re replacing me,” Niall continues. “Do you not see that I’m the only other friend you have? Don’t take me for granted sir. I can walk out the door if I so wanted!”

Louis smirks. “And how many friends do you have, mate?” Niall sinks back in his chair, frowning. “Oh stop it, I could never replace you. Wanna see what I’ve doodled?”

Niall sits a little straighter.

***

But Louis means it when he says that Harry is different. Their friendship is like a never ending journey—an exciting constant in Louis’ dull life. As Louis grows taller, so does Harry. As Louis’ voice changes, so does Harry’s. No matter the circumstance, Harry is there.

One night, Louis finds himself in the usual grassy setting, except this time, the sun isn’t shining down on him. Instead, the sky is covered by a swell of gray clouds, while light drops of rain fall in a slow rhythm.

Everything is darker—Louis feels darker.

Louis walks forward with caution, his feet seeping into the wet ground below him.  _What is happening?_

When he finally sees Harry, he knows something is wrong.

He’s sitting down, his head bowed, shoulders hunched, and eerily still. Louis carefully steps towards Harry, trying not to scare him—which actually doesn’t matter since Harry doesn’t acknowledge him ever.

“Harry?” Louis inspect him up and down, realizing that Harry’s feet are dangling over a foggy abyss. Are they on a cliff? How high are they!? Louis’ knees buckle, unable to tear his gaze away because death is literally below him. “Oh god, Harry. What are you doing?”

A short sob escapes Harry’s lips, which is all it takes. Louis quickly sits down next to Harry, ignoring the fact that hell was not far and if he falls forward he’s dead, which now seems impossible because Louis is dreaming and this fact should ease Louis’ anxiety and—anyway. Harry is silently crying next to him and Louis has no idea why.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Louis asks. Harry only shudders in response, letting a crumpled piece of paper fall in-between Louis and himself. Louis grabs at it after Harry makes no attempt to hide it from him.

He can’t read much of the scribbling in front of him since most of the ink is smudged from the rain—or Harry’s tears. Louis can’t tell, but he can make out enough: _Dear Harry…I’ll miss you and Gem very much…it’s not your fault…we’re still a family._

Louis feels his stomach constrict and his throat tighten, balling up the paper. He watches it disappear as he chucks it into the abyss below them. The familiarity frightens him.

He scoots closer to Harry, his body pressed firmly up against his. Louis knows what the boy next to him is feeling all too well. He knows what it’s like to feel completely at fault, even though everyone around you is telling you that it’s not.

He knows what it’s like to feel broken.

Broken, because a piece of your life just walked out the door and a piece of your life can’t even explain why but that it is what it is. And that’s not a proper excuse, but you go on carrying that around because at least it’s something. Louis knows what it’s like to feel small, and even with the promise of others telling you that it’s going to be okay and that they’re here to support you, it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help the feeling of being completely alone.

So, Louis takes Harry’s hand in his, squeezing it as tight as possible so that maybe, just maybe Harry can feel. Because Louis needs Harry to know that someone is there.

_Someone._

***

There comes a point where Harry and Louis stop playing make believe. Harry is no longer twirling in the field of colors or making daisy chains, nor is Louis pretending to be a fighter jet, dancing around Harry like the invisible playmate he is.  Instead they soak up each other’s silence, lazily welcoming the always present sun and breathing the sweet air that surrounds them.

This is what Louis looks forward to when he dreams. This is his peace after a long day: being with Harry.

And as Louis is older now, sixteen to be exact, he can’t help but be curious. Especially since there’s not much to do in these dreams except watch Harry. _And that’s exactly it_. All Louis can do is watch Harry, and it slowly eats at him. This feeling in his chest, a silent buzzing through his entire being, it all comes to life when he’s next to Harry.

The thing is, Louis has never even thought about love, kisses and going on dates. He’s sixteen for christ’s sake. He’s had other important things to think about, like kicking Niall’s butt in FIFA or successfully trying not to burn down the house when it’s his turn to cook for his sisters.

But he’s looking at Harry now, like he always is, and all he can see is Harry’s miraculously tousled curls, the way his incredibly green eyes sparkle as he watches the clouds move past them, and the plumpness of his pink lips.

Now, all Louis can think about is this _love thing_ , going on dates, and what it would feel like to have Harry’s lips on his. Suddenly, the silence begins to weigh in on him. He needs to stop this or he might just combust.

“H-hey,” Louis struggles to say, putting an end to his string of Harry-centric thoughts.

Harry smiles at nothing in particular, his dimples creating pockets of sunshine that Louis wants to— _jesus, why must Harry’s existence be so hard on him?_

Louis sighs. “You’re such a little shit, you know that?”

Harry begins to hum a simple melody and Louis' insides begin to buzz again. “I know you’re not ignoring me on purpose, but you might as well. I feel like I tell you everything and all you do is sit there and be perfect.”

After another wave of unbearable silence, Louis whines, “Harrrryyyyyy.” He pokes a finger through one of Harry’s ringlets, giggling when Harry scrunches his nose in return. _Giggling._ Louis is giggling.

Somehow, Louis has gravitated closer to Harry than ever before. Louis’ not quite sure how he got here, but he isn’t going to question it.

His laughter quickly subsides because all Louis can focus on is Harry’s curls against his cheeks and the minuscule distance between their lips.  He wonders if Harry can feel Louis’ breath on his the same way Louis can feel Harry’s.

Louis thinks he could; he really could just lean a little closer and kiss him. And why shouldn’t he? He would be the luckiest human being in the world if his first kiss came from someone like Harry. But a nagging feeling tells him otherwise. Harry isn’t reality. He’s just a figment of Louis’ imagination.

Or...he might not be. If _that’s_ true, then Louis can’t steal a kiss from him. It wouldn’t be fair.

Even as his options taunt him, something pulls Louis closer and closer.

 _This is torture_ , Louis thinks, _this feels right—this is confusing._

And then it’s like: whatever. This is his dream, the world has stopped turning for them, and it makes perfect sense to go for it.

His lips barely touch Harry’s when—

_“Theeesssssee words are myyyy ownnn…”_

Louis freezes because why is Natasha Bedingfield underscoring this near perfect moment? Unless…no. _No, please._

_“From my heart floooooww.”_

“Shit,” Louis mutters as the world around him begins to fade away—as Harry fades away. “No. No, stop! _Stop!_ ”

-

Louis jolt up in his own bed, his bedsheets flying all over the place. He immediately resents the fact the he is definitely awake and that _These Words_ is still obnoxiously playing from his phone. Louis furiously snatches his cell from his nightstand, his eyes piercing with venom as a photo of one Niall Horan innocently smiles back at him.

_“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love youuuuuu—"_

_This has to be my ringtone,_ Niall had said. _So it can remind you of our eternal love for each other._ Feeling anything but love, Louis accepts the stupid call, surprised that his thumb doesn’t punch a hole through his phone.

“You piece of shit.”

“Oi! What did I do?” Niall’s voice blares through the other line.

“Everything,” Louis mumbles, cringing at the volume of Niall’s voice.

“Look at your phone. How many missed calls do you have?” Niall asks. He continues before Louis can even check, “28! 28 missed calls!”

“So?”

“I’m outside your house, you twat,” Niall barks, “waiting for _you_! Didja forget we have school today or have you finally decided to join the sodding circus? We’ll be fucking tardy if we don’t leave in the time it takes for your neighbor to ask me to have tea with her again. I swear Tommo, if I have to go through that one more—”

It takes half of Niall’s monologue for Louis to haphazardly throw on sufficiently clean clothes and then storm out the front door, probably waking up the whole house in the process. He just knows that today is going to be horrible.

“Hello gorgeous,” Niall says upon seeing Louis, an amused expression etched on his face.

Louis strides past Niall with his held head high, backwards tee and all. “Shut it. You enjoy Mrs.Nesbitts’ presence just as much as she enjoys pinching your bum.”

“True. This is true. Mrs.Nesbitts is a lovely woman.”

Niall has to jog to catch up with Louis, cozying up to Louis for warmth. With winter coming into full swing, the weather in Doncaster has finally reached bitingly cold. Louis is internally kicking himself because a) he didn’t choose a warmer coat in the two seconds that he had to get ready and b) he can’t stop thinking about his almost imaginary kiss with Harry.

“You zoning out on me, Tommo?”

Minutes have passed when Niall breaks Louis’ silence. They had moved to a slower pace upon realizing that they were doomed to be tardy, claiming that, if they were going to be late, they might as well be fashionably late.

A puff of condensations spills from Louis’ mouth as he exhales. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Niall tuts. “Mate, you are losing it today. I said, are you ready for the dance tonight?”

Louis’ heart drops at the remembrance of the winter dance their school was holding for the upper levels. It was the classic teenage night full of expectations of romance and hook-ups. If this was a week ago, Louis would maybe consider going, but now, Louis is considering whether or not he’d rather spend his night eating glass.

“And don’t say you’re not going,” Niall continues, “because I know for a fact that every beautiful girl in our year will be there. Tonight is our night, I can feel it!”

Every night is Niall’s night.

“You say that but…”

“I know,” Niall rolls his eyes. “But I’m feeling proper good about this one. Ayy, Tommo and Horan—out on the prowl! Mate, we are going to score tonight!”

He says the last part with an overtly crude gesture, causing Louis’ face to redden as Niall continues to skip ahead, rambling about all the glorious action they were to receive tonight.  

Louis feels sick. Sick, because the feeling that Louis had been having recently, a feeling that he knew was always there, is starting to come to the surface, showing itself in the most torturous way. The feeling that Louis is probably not straight. No. He’s _definitely_ not straight, because he _definitely_ fancies boys and not just any boy, but _Harry_.

It only took an almost perfect kiss to realize this.

And here Niall is, strutting about while making Louis seem like some hotshot. Louis draws one last shaky breath before composing himself, picking up his pace to meet up with Niall. He can’t tell his friend the truth, he’s decided that.

He’s also decided that he’s not going to put himself through a night of torture.

“I’m not going,” Louis finally says as their school comes into view. The schoolyard is completely empty, meaning, they are more than a little bit late.

“To school?” Niall asks, raising an eyebrow at Louis.

“No,” Louis shakes his head, planting his feet firmly on the ground. “To the dance.”

Niall’s whole demeanor drops, disbelief spreading throughout his face. Louis might as well have kicked a puppy. Finally, Niall dismisses Louis’ comment entirely, brushing past the older boy.

“No. You’re going,”

“But Ni—”

“No—”

“I don’t—”

“I waited in the cold for you, I’m late for class, and this is the thanks I get?” Niall shrieks. “You…rejecting me?!”

“I’m sorry,” Louis says, squinting his eyes at the sputtering irishman, “were we meant to go together?”

“You know what I mean!”

Louis sighs. “I’m just not up for going to another school function. In fact, I’d prefer a snooze and some cornflakes actually.”

“Sounds exciting,” Niall rolls his eyes. He examines Louis up and down, scrutinizing every minuscule part of him in that Niall way of his. He’s searching for something, and if possible, Louis would like to disappear now. Suddenly, the blonde boy’s expression softens. “Louisssss…”

He snakes an arm around Louis’ waist, pulling Louis closer to him. Immediately, Louis feels a little better. Even if Niall has no idea what is going through his mind, any sympathy from his best friend is welcome.

“Do you not feel comfortable going to the dance because…” Niall begins. And here it is, Louis thinks. Niall knows. His heart lurches and his head starts to spin, and he’s suddenly grateful that Niall has a grip on him. “…you think that you’re not cool enough?”

Louis slumps against Niall, not sure if he should be feeling relief or despair because Niall will never understand.

“Because if you think that, then you need to bloody get over yourself,” Niall continues. “We’ve been through this. People like you, Louis. You’re Louis the ‘Tommo’ Tomlinson. Everybody wants you there.”

He can’t deny the truth of Niall’s words. As they got older, people began to accept Louis with a certain fondness. Admittedly, Louis stopped being overt with his wild ideas and instead, took up the role of being class clown. It’s not a terrible mask to wear, and if it keeps him from being pushed around, then fine. However, if anyone were to find out that Louis is gay, then his time under the radar would be done for. And if Niall finds out?

He can’t risk losing his best friend, his only supporter. What he needs is to be alone for the night, time to think.

“That’s not it,” Louis says, attempting to pull away from Niall, who only draws him closer. “I’m just not feeling well, is all. Haven’t been all night. ’s probably why I overslept.”

Niall pulls away from Louis, observing him thoroughly with genuine concern in his eyes. Evidently, it’s not hard to feign sickness in a state like this, because Niall accepts his excuse.

“Oh,” Niall says, “I get it. You _do_ look like shit.”

“I know.”

“Your eyes looks terrible.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re dressed like my perpetually drunk uncle.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You’re hair is god awfully out of pla—”

“YES,” Louis squeaks. “I get it. I look like a diseased maniac.”

Niall cracks a grin, tumbling into Louis.

“But that won’t stop me from loving yooooouuu,” he sings, his voice muffled as he burrows into Louis’ chest. Louis gladly welcomes his friend, feeling as if he’s just dodged a bullet. “You’re a twat for not coming with me, but I get it. Wouldn’t want ya barfing up on some girl.”

“Of course,” Louis smiles meekly, as his friend holds open the door for him. “Thanks Ni.”

“And right after school, the first thing you gotta do is get your arse to bed. I can’t go on with my life if you die tonight,” Niall says, and just the fact that he’s being so understanding makes Louis’ heart hurt.

He’s not sure how long he can keep up with this.

-

The clock reads 6:15pm when Louis is burrowed under his blankets, making himself as small as possible while he recovers from today’s events. If Louis’ a good friend, he would be out of bed and getting ready for the dance—but he’s not a good friend. Instead, Louis is hiding in his room, too much of a coward to spend a night dancing with girls and playing wingman to Niall.  He couldn’t even find the courage to look his mother in the face at the dinner table. Well, that’s probably because they were having sausages for dinner, and instead of seeing a hearty dinner on his plate, he saw one big gay subliminal message taunting him.

_“Are you okay, hon? You don’t look too well.”_

_“Um…you know. It’s been a gay—a day! It’s been a day!”_

Just, shit.

If some magical wizard could sweep into his dreams, granting him just an ounce of courage to take what he’s discovered about himself and accept it, then he’d feel okay.

He blinks back tears because that’s not the case. In fact, it seems practically impossible after all the work that Louis has done to find some semblance of normalcy.  

So he lets his eyelids droop, hoping to smooth the fuzziness in his head.  

[***](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iuFJ5P9ung)

Louis’ vision hazes in and out until he sees the familiar field that has, in the past eight years, become his escape. He can hear birds chirping around him, as if welcoming the boy back home. Louis is immediately grateful for this dream, the environment contrasting greatly with his reality. In reality, he wakes up to a dreary cold and a looming sense of dread, but here, he finds colors, sun, and a constant feeling of protection. He loves it.

“Harry!” Louis calls out instinctively, his heart feeling a little lighter.

He finds Harry sitting under the usual oak tree, its roots forming a throne for the curly haired boy. Harry sits with his long limbs folded under him, gently cradling something in his hands. Louis’ stomach flutters at the sight as he kneels in front of Harry, their knees barely touching. Now that he’s closer, Louis can see that Harry’s eyelashes sparkle with what were tears.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Louis asks, his alertness rising.

Louis follows Harry’s eye line, gasping when he finally notices what is being held so carefully by Harry. In Harry’s palm, there lays a dainty, pale blue bird, its feathers ruffled messily and its eyes opening and closing with every drawn out breath. While the other birds of its kind hover around them singing beautiful songs, this one is searching for its voice, lying limp in Harry’s hand.

Louis feels a pang in his chest as he imagines Harry coming across the weak bird, taking it upon himself to care for it, immersing it with the warmth that’s constantly radiating off of him.

“I’m sorry about your wing,” Harry sniffles, his thumbs barely running across the bird’s feathers, “but it’ll be okay. You’re just a little broken is all.”

Louis swallows the lump forming in his throat as Harry continues to comfort the bird, offering soft murmurs to the animal.

“You’ll be better, I promise,” Harry continues. His eyes fall on the other blue feathered dots circling around them, taunting the weaker one. “And don’t worry about the rest of them. It’s going to be tough, and you’re going to feel different...”

Louis finds himself thinking about the people in his school, from those who have become his friends to those who have spent years taunting him, imaging them glaring down at him. He sees Niall and he sees his family, and he wonders if maybe the little bird and him could be one and the same.

“You’re just special,” Harry slowly says, smiling down at the fragile creature. “And special is great. Special makes us strong.”

Louis wants to be strong.

“You’ll fly in no time,” Harry finishes, “all it takes is a leap of faith.”

Wiping at the tears that have magically sprung from his eyes, Louis fights to keep his breathing even. With Harry’s last words, the bird begins to stir until it finally dismounts from Harry’s palm. It lands on Louis’ knees, and for a microsecond Louis is able to cup the bird with his trembling hands, unable to control the next batch of tears. It quickly hops off Louis. The bird is obviously unable to fly and it even struggles to walk, but its head is held high, and that’s what matters.

Harry lets out a joyous reaction as he watches the bird become smaller, his smile reaching from ear to ear.

Louis is positively beaming at Harry; the surge of emotions overwhelm him.

“You’re magic, Harry.”

-

It’s 9:37pm when Louis tumbles out of bed, throwing on whatever shoes are closest to him, and practically flying out the front door while tangling himself in his winter coat.

It’s dark outside, save for the flickering streetlights that guide Louis’ way. He knows he doesn’t have to be sprinting to where he’s going, but he’s inspired, and if he doesn’t do this now, then he may never get the strength to do it again. The timing is perfect, really it is.

He knows the way like the back of his hand, not even having to think of when to turn. Louis’ feet slam against the sidewalk as he comes to a stop, his breathing coming in heavy. Clutching at his side, he falls onto the familiar front steps of the house, burrowing his head into his arms. _Breathe,_ he tells himself, _breathe._

It feels as if an hour has passed when he recognizes the footsteps coming near him. He’ll think Louis is crazy.

“Mate?”

Louis looks up, sheepishly greeting Niall as he looks at him with a confused brow.

“Hi,” Louis says meekly. _Oh god, what is he doing?_ “Didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”

“Didn’t expect to see _you_ on my doorstep,” Niall replies. He looks handsome in his suit and tie, the color of his shirt bringing out the blue in his eyes. “You wanna come inside?”

Louis shakes his head, so Niall, without question, plops down right next to Louis.

“It’s not _too_ soon, is it?” Niall asks after a moment’s pause.

“Not really,” Louis shrugs.

Niall blushes. “Good.”

“Not your night?” Louis says.

“Is it ever?” Niall sighs. “What are you doing here, Tommo? You still look like shit.”

Louis goes silent. He can tell that Niall is starting to get worried, his eyes never leaving Louis’ fallen gaze.

“I’m such a horrible friend,” Louis buries his head in his hands, refusing to meet Niall’s stare.

_“What?”_

Finally, Louis meets Niall’s concerned eyes. “I lied to you. About the dance. I just…I just didn’t want to go.”

Niall’s shoulders drop in relief. “ _That’s it?_ Well…that’s okay, I guess. I mean, I had a shit time without you, but I think I would’ve had a shit time _with you_ anyway. “

Louis can’t help but chuckle. Niall continues, “Now since you lied to me, why the hell did you not wanna come?

Louis take a deep breath. “That’s…that’s why I’m here.” Louis feels himself grow smaller under Niall’s watchful gaze. “I just…I just didn’t feel comfortable, I guess? I sorta had a bit of a moment before I saw you in the morning and it was just one of those things where I couldn’t physically, like allow myself to even try? I dunno, I just didn’t want to have to go out while I was still struggling with something inside, you know?”

Niall slowly shakes his head, attempting to absorb Louis’ words. “No…mate, you’re gonna have to ex-“

“I’m gay.”

“Oh.”

Niall quickly snaps his head away from Louis, his brows raised in surprise. Louis can feel his friend slipping away already.

Louis cringes as Niall whispers, “You sure?”

“Ni, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Oh,” Niall says again. He suddenly becomes focused on the pebbles at his feet, watching them skirt across the ground as he kicks them, allowing a wave of silence to pass through.

“Yeah, I know what you’re going to say. I know what’s your feeling,” Louis quickly says, words tumbling out of his mouth. “But you should know that this wasn’t easy for me, okay? I mean, I know that this is different for you—I’m different—but I just need you to accept that. Even if you don’t want to be my friend anymore, I just needed you to know this. You can be angry at me and you can cut all ties with me, but I had to do this, because I couldn’t keep it inside anymore. Like, I’m a fucking bird, Niall! I’m going to fucking fly!”

They sit there in silence, Louis’ heart racing and mind dizzy. And Niall’s just sitting there, not giving him anything to go off of. He steels himself for what’s to come. The _‘get off my property’_ or the official _‘we can’t be friends anymore’_ as he leaves Louis on his footsteps to wallow in his shame.

Then Niall snorts, and next, he’s silently shaking with laughter beside Louis. Okay, so maybe Niall thinks this all some joke, and Louis’ not sure if he should be offended or not.

“You’re a bird?” Niall says, biting his lip to stop another round of laughter from coming out of his stupid mouth. Louis stares back with complete disbelief.

“Well—I-I—uh, shit!” Louis furiously jumps from the spot. “Damn it, Niall! Just go ahead and say it instead of laughing like this…like this is just another back of the class laugh! Let me go already! Say it! ”

“Say what?” Niall’s smile quickly drops. He reaches for Louis’ arm, gripping tightly on the squirming boy.“Louis, say what?”

“That’s you don’t want to be my friend anymore!” Louis cries.

And with that, Louis is jerked backwards until he’s sitting on Niall’s lap. Niall is cradling him and Louis doesn’t know what to feel.

“What the fuck are you going on about?” Niall says, his eyes wide with hurt as he looks down at Louis. Louis find the design on his shirt much more engaging. “Louis, look at me.”

Louis sighs dejectedly, before meeting Niall’s hard stare. His lips are pressed into a thin line.

“I don’t care what you are. I don’t care if you’re gay, bi, straight or a fucking bird, okay?” Niall says, punctuating each word with conviction. “You will _always_ be my friend. You get that?”

Louis slowly nods, taken aback by his best friend’s words. Louis squirms out of Niall’s grasps before he can start rocking Louis like a baby.

“I just needed time to figure out how to say it,” Niall continues. He nudges Louis playfully, “But then you had to Tommo it up.”

“You really don’t care?” Louis asks.

“Of course not,” Niall replies firmly, wrapping an arm around Louis’ shoulders. Louis leans into his touch, resting his head on the blonde boy’s shoulder. “People who think otherwise need to be taught a lesson. Anyway, I always had a feeling too. I mean, it was wrong of me to assume you were straight, right? Especially when you couldn't cared less about all this girl talk. I’m sorry for that. ”

Louis shakes his head, “No, Niall. You did everything right. I’m just lucky to have you.”

“I’ll be there for you.” Niall adds, his grip tightening. “Through everything.”

Louis heart leaps out of his chest. “You’re the best, Ni.”

Niall quirks an eyebrow, “Better than Harry?”

Louis bites his lip, stopping the inevitable smile from forming. “Maybe. I mean, I told you before anyone, if that helps—”

Niall’s eyes widen with excitement, as if his purpose in life has been fulfilled.“Really?! Come on then!” He latches on to Louis, squeezing him tightly. “You are my best best best friend, Louis!”

Louis wrestles away from Niall, sticking out his tongue. How did he find someone like Niall, he fondly wonders. “Seriously, Ni, at first I was flattered by your crush on me, but now—“

“Shut up, Tommo. You wish you could get with this,” Niall shimmies his shoulders, and Louis dramatically fakes interest. “Hey, you know what? Maybe you should audition for the school musical. I bet there are plenty of guys to—”

“Shut up, Ni.”

They continue to talk for the rest of the night, until they realize that one or both of them will contract pneumonia if they stay out any longer. Before Louis can even try returning home, Niall pulls him inside so he can stay over, just like any other night.

It’s then that Louis is so eternally grateful for his friend, the boy from his dreams, and for taking this leap of faith.

***

Louis wonders why his dreams have brought him to the edge of a cliff.

At 18 years old, Louis stands much taller and leaner from all the physical activities that he’s taken part in, and when he looks down he sees that he is wearing his formal attire from tonight’s dinner, a fitting gray suit and perfectly coiffed hair. A celebratory dream, then.

Relishing the sky’s swirl of oranges, pinks, and purples, he slowly situates himself on the ground, his feet dangling over the frightening drop.

He’s alone for now, which he’s a little bit thankful for. Now he can reflect on the events of his day.

Like, _holy shit_ , Louis passed his A-levels, and thank every god, he’s going to university. It’s an incredible feat, seeing as his grades were piss poor from the very beginning. Now, he gets to pursue something that he loves: acting. He gets to leave Doncaster to study in Leeds with Niall, his best friend, and god, he feels so good.

The corners of Louis’ lip start to turn upwards, because of course, he’s had some help along way. Just as his mind begins to fall on a certain someone, he feels the familiar body plop next to him, offering a long sigh as he unknowingly presses his body close to Louis.

Louis smiles, examining the curly headed boy. “Hello, Harry.”

Harry closes his eyes, taking in the air around them. His curls are swept up into a ridiculous quiff and his incredibly green eyes are focused on the painted sky. Somehow, the universe decided to grant Harry with the ability to become increasingly attractive by the microsecond and it kills Louis every time.

“Well,” Louis exhales, finally removing his gaze from Harry. “Here we are.”

It’s a familiar scenario, Harry doing his own thing as Louis rambles about his day, something that Louis has always found comfort in.

“Don’t know if you know this, but Niall and I got our exam scores back,” Louis finally says, his fingers carding the grass below him. “We passed! Well, of course Ni passed all of his, but _I_ passed! I’m going to university, Harry! Isn’t that unbelievable? I’ll answer that for you, it’s fucking unbelievable.”

It truly is unbelievable, to think, that the Leeds’ theatre department decided to take a chance on Louis. After all, Louis’ only starring role was in their school’s production of Grease. It all happened by chance. Louis was caught singing while working on a set piece, and their director had been frantically searching for  a replacement. That was it. Louis sort of fell into the theatre, and later fell in love with performing. The department heads at Leeds specifically told Louis to not disappoint, and rest assured, he won’t.

He is so ready to get to university, to prove himself, and to be something more than Louis from Doncaster.

“You should’ve seen Niall at our families’ dinner, Harry,” Louis adds, a fond smile forming on his face. “Got proper drunk as soon as we opened our letters. All through dinner he kept asking the waitress if heaven was a place on Earth, and god, every time someone said the word university, he would get up on his chair and roar. He’s so dumb, H. I swear.”

But if it wasn’t for Niall, Louis would be incredibly lonely. He’s thankful for Niall, and he’s extremely thankful for Harry. Harry, who is staring at the setting sun in front of them that blazes the sky with its hues of red and orange, making its goodbye count.

“It’s beautiful,” Harry murmurs.

Louis looks to Harry, his eyes grazing over the sharpness of his jaw and the way his chest rises as he breathes slowly.

“Yeah. It is.”

And maybe it’s the combination of the gorgeously setting sun, the promise of a new beginning, and the beautiful boy sitting next to him, but Louis has never felt more complete. He also wonders if maybe the two or three drinks he had at dinner carried into his dreams because he’s absolutely buzzing.

“Harry.” Oh god, here he goes.“I just wanted to say…”

Louis wants to hold onto this feeling, and even if Harry isn’t listening, he’s going to continue rambling on. The sun is turning into a sliver before them; he could wake up anytime now.

“I just wanted to say,” Louis says softly, as the vibrant sky fades to darkness, “that if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be the person I am today. I mean, I’m proud, Harry. I didn’t feel that way until I met you. I’m finally proud of the person I am. And sometimes I think that if I didn’t have you to talk to, to indirectly show me the way, I wouldn’t have this future in front of me. I wouldn’t have believed that I have a family and a community out there that supports me.” He laughs. “And if I wasn’t so obsessed with seeing you all the time, my mom wouldn’t have made me gone outside more, and I wouldn’t have met Niall that day. I mean, life would be so different.”

“ _I_ would be so different,” he continues, while Harry’s lip hold a small smile, staring out into the distance.

Almost a decade has passed since he first met Harry. That’s ten years of talking to this boy, watching this interesting human being grow up while Louis was lucky enough to grow along side him, to laugh, to cry, to learn. The fact will always amaze Louis.

“Harry.” Louis takes in a deep breath. “I need you to hear me when I say this, okay?”

No response, but that’s okay for Louis, it always is.

Louis continues, “I know this relationship has been one-sided for me, I get that. But you should know that it’s…it’s been everything to me. I’m a better person now, Harry. And I have you to thank for that. So… _thank you_.”

His eyes haven’t left Harry’s profile since the beginning of his spiel. He doesn’t expect anything from the boy next to him. Hell, Louis counts himself lucky to even be next to him, breathing the same air as this incredible person. The last of the sun shines directly on Harry, and Louis wonders if it’s his dreams telling him something.

But it’s when Harry’s head turns slightly to the left does his heart begin to flutter, because one minute Harry is looking at the sky, and the next he’s looking at Louis. His eyes are the color of spring and memories that Louis never wants to forget, and they’re looking _directly_ into Louis’ eyes.

Harry _sees_ Louis.

The corner of Harry’s lip is turned upward and Louis’ heart has significantly increased in beats per minute, and when Harry opens his mouth to talk, Louis truly stops breathing when he hears:

_“Of course, Louis.”_

-

 _“Hold fast to dreams_  
_For if dreams die_  
_Life is a broken-winged bird_  
_That can't fly.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, kudos, or rec it ralph. 
> 
> Also say [hi](http://www.tommothetrain.tumblr.com) on tumblr. 
> 
> Thanks so much. :)


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make a lotr reference, am I a bad person?

**Part 2**

_Maktub._

_-_

Holy-fucking-shit.

21 year old Louis bolts upright in his bed, sweat trickling down his forehead as papers fly in different directions around him. The clock reads 6:40am and Louis has to suppress a groan. He’s going to have to skip breakfast if he wants to make it to his first class in time. Because in theatre, ten minutes early was on time, and on time was late.

Rubbing at his tired eyes, Louis begrudgingly gets out of bed, throwing on the nearest articles of clothing. It’s his first day of his final year at university and he’s seriously reached the point of not caring.

Tiptoeing past Niall’s room, Louis exits their dorm, trying to shake off his latest stress dream. It was a nightmare filled with towering individuals in suits, surrounding Louis as he stood on stage, a single spotlight shining down on him.

 _You’re not good enough_ , they had repeated, their distorted faces circling Louis as he tried to recite a monologue. Thankfully, he had woken up just before the stage below Louis started to disappear.

It’s a dream that recurs too often for Louis, bringing a storm of gloom for the rest of the day. But unfortunately, it’s something that he’s grown accustomed to.

-

“I-I don’t understand. The email said that _this_ would be my first assignment,” Louis sputters, his face quickly reddening with anger as Professor “call me Ben” Winston looks on apathetically.

“Yes, well, we decided to give the production to someone else. Is that an issue?” Ben asks, which really isn’t a question, because Louis is sure Ben already has the answer. “Maybe after some observance, we can give you a production to stage manage later in the year. In the meantime, make sure you visit with the technical director, right? See what areas you can assist in.”

With that, Ben brushes past Louis, calling an actors’ huddle on the stage, which Louis would have joined if he was an actor. If he was as successful as he had hoped to be.

But he isn’t. Instead, Louis is standing alone backstage, wondering how his life became this.

“Sorry, Louis.”

Louis turns to see Katie, a year below Louis and also in the Stage Management program, genuinely eyeing Louis with sympathy. Katie was small with kind eyes---completely unthreatening. “They just sorta threw this on me. I had to accept, you know? It’s a grade and—“

“It’s fine,” Louis mutters. “Just go.”

With a meek smile, Katie leaves to join Ben onstage, a writing pad and pencil in hand. As a stage manager, Katie is to act as a liaison between the director and his company. Often labeled as the second most important person in the company—next to the director—the stage manager holds a disgustingly heavy amount of responsibility, making sure the production runs smoothly backstage.

It’s an exhausting, but fulfilling job. Louis can practically call cues in his sleep.

However, it’s not Louis’ choice career. But at this point in time, there’s no other option.

“Louis!”

_Oh god._

Lips pressed into a tight smile, Louis wheels around to see none other than Nick Grimshaw, facing Louis with a sickeningly fake smile. He holds a script of _Romeo and Juliet_ in an unnecessarily overt way, as if to say: _hey Louis, look! I’m in the fucking show! Remember the time when all your dreams were crushed and you weren’t cast in anything, ever?_

Fuck Nick Grimshaw, honestly.

“How was your summer, Lewis?” Nick says in that grating way of his, hands reaching to touch Louis. “Mine was outstanding. I was cast in _so_ many local productions. Just finished working on Cats. Life changing, it was.”

Louis slinks away from Nick’s grasp, hardly trying to hide his detest.

“Wonderful.”

Nick catches Louis as he attempts to storm past him. “Louis, listen.”

He brings his voice to an undisguised whisper, dripping with fake sympathy. “I’m sure you heard that I was cast as Romeo.”

No, he hasn’t, and Louis really doesn’t care— _honest._

Although, the lump in his throat says otherwise.

“Anyway,” Nick continues with a loud sigh. “I know these past few years have been rough for you. I mean, with getting thrown into this backstage business after being kicked off the acting program…must be hard.”

And there it is, the bite to Nick’s words, the constant reminder that Louis wasn’t good enough to even begin his first year in the acting program. Nick was right beside him when it happened.  It was after their opening showcase. Louis was told by the department heads that Louis needed to explore other options if he were continue in theatre. In other words, he was shit.

It was heartbreaking. It’s _still_ heartbreaking just thinking about it. But Louis has learned to steel himself when it comes to the past. He can only move forward. This is the right direction. It has to be.

Louis simply bites his tongue from saying anything too offensive, instead, rolling his eyes at Nick. Nick finds enjoyment in this, flicking his stupidly coiffed hair and puffing his chest out proudly. Louis scoffs. Honestly, how does this man constantly receive lead roles?

Nick smirks. “What? Doth I sense a hint of jealousy?”

“No,” Louis growls, “but you can fucketh off.”

He pushes past Nick, leaving him to gape at Louis’ keen ability to punch back with words.

If this morning is an indication of how the rest of the year is going to be like, then Louis would rather throw in the towel now than later.

-

“I mean, she was a nice old lady and all, but I had to tell her, that’s mine love. I’m afraid you can’t have it, unfortunately it’s connected.” Louis hears Liam tell Zayn when he plops down next to them, Zayn snickering into his mug.

They’re seated outside their campus’ prominent coffeeshop, a regular meeting area for the friend group. They were surrounded by a number of patio tables but _this spot_ , crooked tabletop and all, is their go to spot, their beacon on a stormy night. Where they sit overlooks the beautiful courtyard of their university, which is comprised of cobblestone pavements, decoratively trimmed plants, and a large stone fountain smack dab in the center. Here they sat like exhausted, debt ridden kings, watching students bustling to and from class, all on their own collegiate adventure.

Without delay, Liam hands Louis a saran wrapped sandwich and a cup of tea upon his arrival.

“They ran out of ham, so I got you egg salad. How was your day?” Liam asks, which is so like him. He’s lucky to have found Liam, he really is.

Louis mumbles something incoherent into his sandwich, which Liam somehow understands. “It’ll be better, I’m sure.”

Louis’ doubtful, but he’s grateful for the vote of confidence. He’ll say it one more time, he’s really lucky to have found Liam—and Zayn.

Zayn nods sympathetically.“Mate, whatever happened, it couldn’t have been as bad as Liam’s morning. An old lady tried to rip his ear off at the hospital.”

Studying to become a doctor (kudos to him), Liam spends a majority of his time volunteering at a nearby hospital, often shadowing physicians or partaking in light duties, such as being vulnerable to attacks from doddering patients.

Louis and Niall met Liam through Zayn. The three of them were marathoning Breaking Bad in Zayn’s dorm when Zayn offhandedly mentioned the cute guy who lived across from him. As soon as Zayn said that, Louis immediately snuck off to persuade Liam into joining them, while Niall promptly distracted Zayn with his jazz inspired rendition of Shaggy’s _It Wasn’t Me._

Since then, the four boys have been inseparable. Zayn definitely owes him big time.

“It was with good intention!” Liam defends. “Anyway, it couldn’t have been bad as Zayn’s morning. Just look.”

He motions to the glaringly large stack of books piled in front of Zayn, titles ranging from _The Study of Neoplatonism_ to _The World In Color_. Shit. That truly rivals Louis’ morning. Sitting on top of their table is a lot of money and work, and it all belongs to Zayn.

Beautiful Zayn (seriously, he’s beautiful) isn’t confident in what he’s doing after university, but the damn man is so talented, he can take as many different classes as he wants and succeed past expectation. Mostly divulging in philosophy, art, english, and How to Be Perfect 101, Zayn is a god amongst mortals, and Louis is both envious and proud of him.  

Zayn simply shrugs.

“Well I’m sure Niall is having a better day,” Louis sighs.

Which isn’t even a necessary assumption. Of course Niall is having a better day. It’s Niall. Even if his whole world fell to shit, Niall would still be having a better day than them, because that’s just how Niall lives: happily.

Speaking of, a loud booming voice echoes throughout the courtyard, a voice that belong to none other than Niall.

Louis, Zayn, and Liam turn to see their blonde friend, expertly walking backwards, his arms wildly moving around in every direction as he faces a large crowd of young prospective students. As a university ambassador, Niall is in charge of leading group tours around campus. He’s a perfect candidate for the job, since his whole being exemplifies school spirit.

Niall had haphazardly chosen to major in Communications, but everyone knows that he’d rather travel after he graduates. That way, he could share his love of music and love of life—Louis approves.

“Okay children! This is where I leave you to explore,” Niall announces to the group. “Well? Why are you lot still standing around for? Go on now! I’m fucking starving and me friends are calling to me!”

The wide-eyed teenagers scramble to make themselves appear busy while Niall strides over to their table, proudly donning a green polo with their school’s emblem on it.

“Oh!” He turns back to the scattering tour group and roars, “and _go Leeds!_ ”

“Go Leeds!” They cry back in unison as per tradition, some more wearily than others.

“Never gets old,” Niall chuckles, as he takes a seat next to Louis. Niall takes a dramatic pause, and Liam, Louis, and Zayn anxiously prepare themselves for the noise they know is about to come.

Niall delivers, slamming his fists on the table, punctuating each word. “ _Lads! Lads! Lads!_ How has everyone’s day been!”

Sometimes Louis looks at Niall and falls into complete shock because this is the person he grew up with.

“Terrible.”

“Shit.”

“Fucking fucktastic.”

“Brilliant!” Niall exclaims. “Thank the universe you have me. Niall. The greatest fucking person to ever walk this earth.”

He hasn’t changed one bit.

“What are you going on about, Ni?” Liam asks, amused.

“Ed has some gig at that one pub behind Bridgewater and he invited me to play with him. _And_ all of you fine lads are  going,” Niall announces, practically pushing Louis backwards with his enthusiastic gestures.

“Is that a command?” Zayn smirks, and before anyone can respond, Niall throws a slice of cheese at Zayn.

Even dairy products are attracted to Zayn because the slice of cheese sticks perfectly onto Zayn’s forehead. He sighs in exasperation.

“Seriously, mate?”

Niall climbs over the table, removes the cheese from Zayn’s skin, and promptly stuffs it in his mouth. “Dead serious.”

Zayn takes a moment to shake off his justifiable disgust. “Ummm, of course. Hey Liam!” Liam instantly perks up. “Wanna go together then?”

“What? Like—like a date?” Liam asks, and his eyes are suddenly that of a puppy. Louis wants to take him home and cuddle him, he’s so cute.

Zayn scrunches his nose. “No. No, I mean as friends.”

Louis and Niall simultaneously cringe.

“Oh.”

“I mean, we can split a cab or whatever—” Zayn continues.

“Yeah! Yeah, that sounds, uh…” Liam interjects. “I just thought…”

“What did you think?” Zayn innocently asks.

Louis wonders if Zayn's achilles heel is his inability to see what is _so_ completely obvious, because _holy shit_ , this hole that Zayn is digging for himself could lead to fucking China.

“Nevermind.” Louis can see Liam visibly recoil, his lips pursed in horribly disguised hurt. “Yeah, I’ll come by your door then.”

“Sounds good.”

With that, Zayn retreats to his books. Meanwhile, Louis internally face palms as a wave of silence washes over them. He resides to sipping his drink loudly.

Just as Louis is about to bring up the weather, Niall unabashedly breaks the silence. He smacks Louis’ shoulder with a thunderous clap, causing tea to dribble down Louis’ chin. “ _Louis!_ Will I be seeing your arse at the pub as well? Find you a guy for the night, eh?”

Louis returns Niall’s enthusiasm with a meek smile.

“I…I mean…I’ll have to see,” Louis replies with caution. Niall contorts his face, offended. “If I don’t it’s cause of rehearsal! Honest!”

“Skip it!”

“Niall.”

Niall gestures to Zayn.“You’ve skipped rehearsals to see Zayn do his acapoopoo thing!”

Zayn glares at Niall, who returns the contempt with an air kiss. “We’re the _AcaSquad_ and we’re a highly competitive group of talented male vocalists. Niall, _please_.”

It’s actually the bane of Zayn’s existence.

His voice and utterly cool presence carries the lesser known A capella group, much like how Atlas carried the whole world on his shoulders. Basically, it’s a whole fucking lot to carry.

But nevertheless, Zayn’s A capella group is what brought the him and Louis together. After the great _That’s So Disney medley_ of 2010, Zayn had escaped through the stage door and found Louis hiding from backstage labor. They passed a cigarette between each other and the rest is friendship history.

“I can’t skip rehearsal, Niall.” Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s part of my grade.”

Louis thinks he hears Niall mutter something about Louis being no fun anymore under his breath, but he’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“We’ll get him to come. Don’t worry, Ni,” Liam offers.

Even if Liam’s words are highly unlikely, Louis is still grateful for them. It shuts Niall up, and soon, he starts a less debatable conversation.

The truth is, Louis probably won’t be having a late night rehearsal. Now that his involvement in the first production is significantly less important, Louis will probably have more evenings to himself. After all, it would be incredibly unnecessary for the directors to keep Louis after class if his one job is to _mix paints_.

He just cannot fathom having a night out after such a shit day, and knowing his friends, he can safely assume there will be plenty of rounds of _‘hey, have you met Louis?’_ or his personal favorite (patented by Niall), _‘arses up lads, Tommo has entered the building’_.

No, he can’t deal with that tonight. And just, how sad is that? That not even sex can pull Louis out of this slump.

Through hollowed goodbyes and morning confusion, meaningless sex has become tiresome to Louis. And yeah, there’s the sex with traces of something more, but with all the missed calls and unkept promises, it’s become more than a little heartbreaking.

“…and so I went all zombie on their arses! And then Payno over here was all guns blazin’, no mercy!”

_Huh?_

“What are we talking about?” Louis asks, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Niall had a dream that he was zombie,” Liam says nonchalantly. “Apparently, I was the best fighter on the field.”

“I can see it,” Zayn shrugs. The two share a quick smile before returning their focus to Niall.

“It was the curry, I tell ya. I always have fucked up dreams when I eat something spicy,” Niall says with a shiver, as if all of his spice-induced dreams have suddenly come back to haunt him.

“Or maybe you’re just naturally bonkers, mate,” Louis says, patting Niall’s shoulder in mock comfort.

Niall shoves Louis lightly, “Puh-fucking-lease. This coming from the master of dreams? Mr.I-Once-Had-A-Dream-That-I-Was-Playing-Naked-Twister-On-Jupiter’s-Rings-While-Bohemian-Rhapsody-Played-From-Neptune’s-Moon.”

Zayn pulls a face at Louis. “The fuck?”

Louis chuckles dismissively.

He has no idea what Niall is talking about, really. He can’t even remember the last time he’s had a happy dream.

-

It’s late into the night when Louis finally has time to himself.

As soon as his last class had finished, he was enlisted to run errands for Romeo and Juliet, ordering lumber and researching paint brands. Then afterwards he had to endure a two hour long conversation with the set designer, arguing over the color of Juliet’s balcony ( _Blood orange? What the fuck ever. It’s fucking red_ ). Such an exciting life, he knows.  

Fortunately he was able to end the night with an always welcomed Skype date with his younger sister, Lottie.

“You’re looking pretty,” she had said upon seeing him.

“Thank, love.”

“Pretty _damn rough_.”

It’s always great talking to his sister.

“Cheers.”

“So…bad start then?”

“Don’t ever grow old, Lottie. Do yourself a favor, stay young forever.”

After wishing his sister a goodnight, Louis is now sprawled on top of his bed, and damn, it's late. Too fucking late to even consider joining the rest of the lads at Ed’s gig. Which he wasn’t going to do regardless of the time, but whatever.

As soon as his eyes begin to involuntary close, his phone starts to buzz incessantly in his pocket. Someone better be dying.

Niall’s not dead, but he seems to be close:

_ah, tommo i’m about to go up holy shit !!_

_wait I’m about to go up and you're not here._

_WHATHEFUCKLOUIS_

_my irish forefathers did not die for this_

Unprepared to face the wrath of Niall, Louis resides to saving the conversation for the morning, moving onto the next round of texts.

From Liam:

_Wish u were here mate!_

And then, from the always scholarly Zayn:

_louehh, liam looks soooo good tonite. zayn is a happy happy happy man!! :) x_

Louis groans upon seeing Zayn’s text.

Liam and Zayn have a relationship that Louis and every other being in every far off universe will never understand. Louis likes to think that they’re together. The past few years have been filled with the two stealing glances, finishing each other’s sentences, and sneaking off to do _god knows what_ —so they might as well be.

But this is Zayn and Liam. It’s like Liam is at the finish line, waiting to make things official, while Zayn is spending more than enough time at the hydration station, slowly sipping water out of a cheap plastic cup of obliviousness.

Louis replies, _“I don’t like it when you talk in third person”_ and leaves it at that.

Switching his phone to silent, Louis buries himself under the safety of his blankets. When he breathes in, he feels the weight of his day crashing into him, the feeling of complete dread and hopelessness. He relives it all. But when he allows himself to breathe out, he feels it all fade away, slowly but surely, until he’s light again.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Let it in. Let it out.

Louis repeats the process, allowing the present to slip away. His senses fade to white as he feels himself become lighter.

_I just want to escape._

***

White.

That’s all Louis sees when his eyes open. He’s lying flat against the white ground and looking out into the white sky, and when he looks from left to right, he sees nothing but a vast, never-ending abyss of fucking white. _What the hell?_

Louis finally gathers his senses, and stands up. So, he’s definitely dreaming, that, he is sure of. Louis starts to wonder when the nightmare will kick in. Where are the men in suits and satanic Nick Grimshaws?

Anticipation thrumming in the pit of his stomach, he swallows thickly, and walks through the blank space. He half expects a terrifying face to pop up at any second, and he’s grateful that none does. But the idea still scares him. In fact, he would like to wake up right about now.

 _Fuck it,_ Louis thinks, opting to accept the fact that he’s a coward, pivoting on the spot.

Louis stifles a squeal.

There’s a figure standing in front of him. A tall, skinny, and incredibly good looking boy. The boy’s hair rests a little above his shoulders, falling in inconsistent curls, and his all black attire strikingly contrasts against the white backdrop. Louis suddenly hopes that this isn’t a nightmare, that this is just the beginning of a very _promising_ dream.

The boy doesn’t register Louis. Probably because he’s too busy figuring out what’s going on as well, looking around with a furrowed brow. Either that, or Louis is just really good at holding his breath.

And then it happens: Louis is met with green eyes.

It’s like jumping into a freezing pool for the first time in forever. It’s like waking up after an eternity of a dark and dreary sleep. Immediately, memories of adventuring through forests of greenery, tumbling through flowers, and heartfelt speeches come flooding back to Louis. How could he have not recognized the boy standing in front of him? The boy that he thought he would never _ever_ see again.

Louis has to swallow the lump forming in his throat. He wants to burst into tears.

“Hello Louis,” he says.

Louis stops breathing.

“Harry,” Louis manages to croak, finding the onslaught of surprises far too overwhelming.

“Yeah?” Harry’s scrunches his face. He pauses thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose. _Harry_ …sounds about right.”

His voice is much deeper than before. Gravely, not like he once remembered.

Then, Louis remembers that Harry is actually _speaking_ to him, something that has only happened _once_.

“I can’t believe you're here,” Louis says, eyeing Harry up and down. He can’t believe it’s been almost four years since he’s last seen Harry—a sunset and an unintentional goodbye.

“Um, yeah,” Harry says slowly. “Where is here?”

“My dreams.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Your dreams? What… _what is this_?”

Louis shakily sighs. “Been asking myself the same question.”

Harry still looks utterly confused.

“Do you remember anything?” Louis asks.

Harry pauses, mulling over the question, his face scrunched in deep thought. “I’m…I’m Harry,” he begins, laying a hand on his heart. He points to Louis. “And you’re _Louis_. That’s it.”

Louis’ heart flutters when Harry says his name.

“Say that last part again,” Louis says airily.

“That’s it.”

“No the other part.”

Harry cocks his head to the side, perplexed. “And you’re Louis?”

“Just that last word then,” Louis quickly says.

_“Louis.”_

Slow like honey and bursting with warmth. He would ask Harry to repeat his name over and over until he wakes, but there’s still so much ground to cover. Speaking of ground…

Harry continues his train of thought, not taking notice to Louis’ intervals of dreamy sighs and perpetual fond gaze.

Harry shrugs. “I guess that’s all I need to know— _woah_.”

The ground below moves under them, and the rest is like a painting in progress. The vibrant colored grassed flutters in the air as a familiar place begins to fade in. Suddenly there’s the large oak tree that him and Harry once sat under and there’s the field of flowers where they spent making crowns and _there_! There’s the cliff that Louis and Harry would sit, feet dangling over the edge while Louis talked about his day.

Before Louis becomes lost in nostalgia, Harry grips his forearm, letting out an awed gasp. “How did you do that?” Harry does a little spin, gazing at the newly blue sky in childlike wonderment.

Louis bites back a smile, because even in his head, Louis tries to play cool. “Well, this _is_ my dream.”

Harry beams at Louis before taking a seat on the soft grass, gently pulling Louis with him. “That’s brilliant.”  

They’re sitting cross legged and facing one another. If Louis closes his eyes, he can feel like he’s ten again. So, he does. Imaging a time where a young Harry would sit in front of him, singing songs while Louis looked on fondly. But when Louis opens his eyes, he sees an older Harry. Appearance wise, he’s grown exceptionally (he’s a fucking god, bathing in the sun), but nevertheless, underneath the new exterior, he still sees _his_ Harry, head tilted upwards as he relishes their surroundings.  

“I mean,” Harry continues, still taken aback, “it all feels so familiar.”

Louis shrugs. “Maybe it is.”

Harry’s head dips as he lets out a soft, “Yeah.” His green eyes flit back to meet Louis’. “I just wish I could remember. Like, _you_. Were we best friends?”

Louis lets out a nervous chuckle, recounting the many times he’s frustratingly yelled at young Harry for not playing with him. “Sorta?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...the only time I’ve ever seen you is here. In my head. And you wouldn’t talk to me. Ever.” Louis looks on sheepishly as Harry’s eyebrows nearly jump off his head.

Harry’s posture crumples, his eyes cast downward in shame. “I must’ve been a bad friend then.”

“No! Not even close, Harry.You were great!”

Harry instantly looks comforted, his stiff posture diminishing. “Then what happened?”

“I dunno…” A wave of sadness hits Louis, a longing for a memory. “It was my last day of sixth form. I remember saying a few things and...and you looked at me. And every night after I would hope to see you, but I never did. And then I…”

“You forgot about me?” Harry mutters, picking at the grass below him lamely.

“It’s...it’s been a long time, Harry,” Louis says gently, gaining Harry’s attention once again. His eyes bore deep into Louis. “But I wish I didn’t," Louis says softly. "I _needed_ you.”

Harry’s head perks up, his mouth forming a small ‘o’. Louis must sound mad. 

He wants to die. With the way his face is heating up, maybe he will. Maybe he will burst into flames.

After a torturous moment of silence, Harry finally speaks (because Louis was definitely not going to).

“Well,” he says, his lips slowly curling into a smile. “I’m going to try and remember...for you.”

Before Louis can react, the soft ground below him begins to dissolve. He shoots Harry a frightened expression as he begins to fade away.

“Harry! Harry,” he says hurriedly, “you’re disappearing.”

“What?” Harry shouts, his face scrunched with confusion. “No, you are!”

Harry reaches out just as Louis says, “I’ll see you soon! I hope!!”

He’ll hurt ten times more if he doesn’t.

-

Louis wakes up thinking a dozen sacks of potatoes have fallen on him.

But it’s just Niall.

And he’s snoring incredibly loudly and fully dressed in yesterday’s attire. Louis groans, wiggling an arm out to whack the blonde hairs right off his friend’s head.

Niall merely mumbles, blinking a tired eye at Louis. Awakening, Niall shakes his head when he realizes Louis isn’t an actual pillow. “Oh. This isn’t my room.”

“Clearly,” Louis hisses, promptly throwing Niall onto the floor with a thud.

Niall lets out a hurt whimper. “Me arse,” he moans, standing up on his feet and rubbing his bottom.

“That’s the seventh time.” Louis sits up in his bed, shooting Niall a pointed look.

“You’re keeping count?”

“And being generous,” Louis says.

Niall raises his arms in defense. “I couldn’t make it to me room! Too tired and too drunk. Blame Zayn and Liam.”

“Why would I…”

Niall groans, crawling back into Louis’ bed. Louis would protest, but he’s slightly curious and Niall is warm. “It was terrible, Tommo. For starters, I fucking _rocked_ Ed’s gig.” Louis exhales an annoyed sigh. “Right. Just had to put that in. But the whole night, Zayn and Liam kept making dancy eyebrows at each other, and that’s great and all. Fucking fantastic. So then they…”

Somewhere in Niall’s story, Louis loses focus. It seemed like a typical event in Zayn and Liam’s world; same beginning, middle, and end. Instead, his thoughts latch onto a certain curly haired boy.

Harry is back. _Why_ is Harry back? And why is Louis so fucking ecstatic? How long it’s been, Louis thinks, _to wake up happy._

“And when they came out of the bathroom they were silent, like angry silent. And the cab ride was god awful,” Niall continues. “I was stuck in the middle of those two asshats! Zayn would groan every time Liam breathed and then Liam rolled his eyes every time Zayn made the tiniest movement. So, I stopped the cab, climbed over them, and waited _for-fucking-ever_ for another one to take me here. Don’t reckon they noticed.”

Louis hums noncommittally. Louis kinda wants to push Niall of the bed. He wants to enfold himself inside his blankets and go back to sleep. Every word Niall is saying to him seems distant, like, he can’t get his mind to function because it’s stuck in his dreams.

He feels the spot next to him lift and turns to see Niall making his way to the door.

“Anyway,” Niall says over his shoulder, “just wanted to let you know that World War III is upon us. Should get ready for class and— _hey_.”

Louis must have lost focus again, because Niall is looking directly at him, arms crossed and eyebrows knitted together. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Louis instantly reddens. “What?” Grabbing a pillow, he hides his already forming smile behind it. “It’s nothing.”

Niall fondly shakes his head, turning to leave. Meanwhile, Louis is rethinking today’s schedule, hoping to fit in a nap in between a class or something.

“It’s nice,” Niall says. Louis watches as he closes the door behind him, barely hearing him say, “I missed it.”

-

“Louis Tomlinson, you fucking incompetent sack of— _I swear, I will_ —”

Nick’s insults are stifled under the roars of laughter being hurtled at him. Really, Nick is just making it worse, dancing around and pointing at the paint covering his bum.

It’s day one of blocking and already the theatre is in chaos. Louis is just grateful that he is hidden in the safety of their backstage area, while Nick makes a fool of himself under a spotlight.

He may or may not have purposely failed to mention to Nick that the staircase is indeed wet with a fresh coat of shitty brown.

Louis fights to keep his voice from shaking, hiding his laughter behind a binder of paint samples. “Now I respect your creative decision, Nick. But I don’t think Shakespeare intended for Romeo to shit himself during this soliloquy.”

“Did you _not_ tell Nick that the set piece was _not_ ready for him to use?” Professor Call-Me-Ben says from the audience. Louis can hear the agitation in his voice magnified by his director’s microphone.

“I thought I had mentioned it,” Louis calls out, feigning innocence.

Nick quickly turns to Louis, clearly affronted. “No, no you did not mention it!” Nick spews, “In fact, you clearly said: _go ahead, Nick. I made sure the stairs were dry, just for you_!”

Louis waves his hand dismissively, only slightly wishing he cared. The other technicians backstage are enjoying themselves, so if anything, Louis has gifted the crew with merriment.

“Ben!” Nick cries out to the audience, waving his arms around his stained pants. “Please!”

“Louis,” Ben says into his mic for all of the theatre to hear. “You’re not needed right now. Take an early break or something. Now Nick, let’s just start from the top, and _don’t_ sit on the stairs.”

Nick shoots Louis a smug smile before retreating back to his script.

“Fine,” Louis mumbles, searching for his bag.

Ben is right. He already accomplished his "super" goal of the day: _make purple paint._ Everything else he'd been doing was just monkey work for others.  

“Don’t worry, Tomlinson. I think we need you,” someone says from behind Louis.

Louis just nods, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the control booth if you need me then. See ya.”

When Louis enters the control booth, he is immediately welcomed by the crew’s sound engineer, who ignores Louis as he topples onto the carpeted floor, his head resting on his backpack.

Normally, he would come to the control room to chat with whoever was busy in there. It’s a fun place, dark and filled with blinking lights and buttons that Louis dare not touches. The room is high, over looking the audience. It has a perfect view of the whole stage. Louis secretly enjoys replacing himself with the actors in rehearsal, imagining himself on stage singing powerful ballads or reciting heart wrenching monologues.

But alas, Louis is on the floor and he smells like moldy paint.

Taking an early break is no fun when the rest of your friends are in class.

Louis’ phone buzzes in his pocket. Fumbling to retrieve it, he reads:

_From Zayn: wanna have lunch w/ me latr? i’d have lunch in our regular spot but then i’d have to see liam._

He casts his phone to the floor, opting not to take any sides in this so called world war. Lying on his back, he counts all the speckles on the ceiling tiles for awhile, and then yawns.

“Stirring paint takes a lot out of you,” he says to the room; no one answers. “I’ve counted 124 dots so far,” his voice begins to trail off, “but ‘m not sure…”

***

Louis wiggles his nose at a tickling sensation, and when he opens his eyes, he sees a butterfly fluttering away from the tip of his nose. Louis blinks at the blinding sun that warms him. Instead of the control booth carpet, he feels grass, and instead of ceiling tiles, he sees birds flying in circles against a blue backdrop. His ears perk as he hears a familiar voice hum next to him.

Turning his head slightly, Louis sees Harry, also on his back, arms folded behind his head, and eyes closed with a pleased smile.

 _“Harry?”_ Louis gasps.

When Harry turns to see Louis, his eyes widen, simultaneously sitting up with Louis. “Louis! You’re here!”

“And so are you! You don’t know how glad I am to see you!” Louis replies, his voice high with embarrassing excitement. Without thinking, Louis throws his arms around Harry, and before Louis could pull away abashedly, Harry tightens his arms around Louis’ back.

So last night hadn’t been a fluke. Harry really is back—and interacting with Louis.

Every time Harry opens his mouth, Louis is still amazed, like he wants to catch every word the boy in front of him says.

“Me too,” Harry says, finally pulling away from Louis. “I’ve tried to remember anything since I’ve been on my own, but I couldn’t. So I’ve just been thinking about you this whole time.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Louis says, secretly pleased. He’s imagining Harry smelling the flowers and uttering Louis’s name over and over again. Which is probably an over dramatization, but, whatever.

“Enough about me,” Harry says, flicking his head so that his hair gracefully falls into place. Louis wonders if Harry has studied covers of romance novels. He gestures to Louis. “How was your day?”

Which sounds weird the second the words come out of Harry’s mouth, because here’s Harry, asking about Louis’ day. Ten years ago, Louis would be asking Harry about _his_ day while Harry unresponsively played with a bug, leaving Louis to aimlessly talk about himself.

Louis then realizes all the lost time he needs to make up for, the old stories that he has to retell, along with the new. Louis has a whole life that he needs to share with Harry.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Louis says with a smile, getting up on his feet.

He extends a hand for Harry to take and Harry gladly accepts.

***

“So you’re a theatre major?” Harry asks, stooping down to pick up a flower then jogging clumsily to catch up with Louis. “I’ve always wanted to be famous.”

They have been talking endlessly about Louis’ life outside his dreams; friends, family, work, and school. It was like Louis Tomlinson 101 and Harry was his one and only pupil.

“Like an actor?” Louis says, eyeing Harry up and down. He can see Harry on the big screen; he has the looks. Though he’s not sure Harry would be good at acting, with his slightly monotone voice and actions that scream _‘hard to direct’_ —Harry tripped over air just minutes ago.

“Nah, more like a rockstar.” Harry swivels his hips for added effect, to which Louis averts his gaze.

“You and Niall would get along,” Louis chuckles as Harry continues to shimmy his shoulders.

Harry stops flailing. “The irish one?”

“Very good, my young pupil,” Louis mystically says, bowing his head slowly.

Harry jokingly preens. Louis begins to wonder when he’ll wake up. He’d rather not, but with the amount of time he feels has passed, he can’t help but speculate.

“I wish I had things to tell you,” Harry says, breaking the comfortable silence that they had fallen into. Pouting, he holds out his hands to demonstrate their emptiness. “But I have nothing.”

“Well, you still can,” Louis shrugs. He bumps Harry lightly. “Tell me what you’re feeling. How was _your_ day?”

Harry’s mouth parts, apparently surprised that Louis would like to talk about him.“Oh! Um...well I like being here. The weather is always nice, you know? I _like_ fields. It’s like, if I could dream up a perfect getaway, it would be this. The flowers...the sun...the breeze...a cute—” He freezes. “Holy shit. What if I’m dead? Is this heaven? Louis, _am I dead?!_ ”

Louis rolls his eyes, laying a comforting hand on the small of Harry’s back. “You’re not dead, Harry.”

He doesn’t know what Harry is.

“Then what am I?”

“We’ll find out.”

-

A weeks worth of mental preparation has led up to this moment.

 _Professor Ben Winston_ , Louis mouths as he turns the corner. Reading the nameplate on the oak door immediately makes the ground feel much hotter under Louis’ feet, as if the pits of Hell burn brighter for those who seek to crush the dreams of hopeful actors.

It had been Harry’s idea, him with his stupid motivational speeches and genuine belief in someone as utterly lost as Louis. And really, how was Louis supposed to say no to Harry’s sparkly moon-sized eyes and stupid pouty lips?

Two weeks ago, Louis would not have had the courage to stand in front of his director’s door, ready to fight for his spot back into the acting program, armed with a variety of monologues and cuts of memorized musical pieces. Sure, there must be some other complicated progress for those wishing to transfer programs but this seemed more convincing, to actually grovel for an audition.

 _“If you love it so much, then why don’t you go for it?”_ Harry had told him one night. Somehow, Harry had gotten him to open up about his failures in acting, and the second Louis finished his miserable spiel, Harry fought vehemently to pull Louis off the ledge.  

_“People like you aren’t meant to be hidden, Louis. You have to get back up and show them that they were wrong.”_

Harry was right.

He loves acting—he never stopped loving it. He may have lost sight of it for a while, but the moment he started rehearsing his monologue pieces, Louis fucking knew. Telling stories is what he is meant to do, and he can’t do that by allowing himself to be a doormat, caught behind the curtains and organizing fucking barrels of mixed screws.

Louis just can’t believe that he was almost ready to give up.

 _“I believe in you,”_ Harry had said, squeezing Louis’ hand, and willing him to look into his eyes when all Louis wanted to do was wake up.

“I believe in myself too,” Louis mutters, lifting his fist up to knock on the suddenly intimidating door.

Before he can knock, however, the door swings wide open.

And fuck, Louis almost shrieks. There, standing in the doorway is _Simon Cowell_ , the resident director of the Leeds Repertory Theatre, a highly acclaimed, rising theatre company. Louis knows this because he’s stalked the website more times than he’d like to admit. Mr.Cowell is the brains of the repertory theatre. Basically, _he’s everything_. And currently, he’s eyeing Louis from head to toe, a scrutinizing expression etched on his brilliant face.

Louis blanches (maybe nervously drools, he’s not sure).  

Ben revives him, appearing over Simon’s shoulder.

“And how may I help you, Louis Tomlinson?”

“Ah _, Louis_ ,” Simon interjects before Louis can even answer, because, oh yeah, Louis is supposed to be groveling right now. “And who is this Louis?”

“Just a student technician, sir.”

 _Just?_  Louis mentally sticks pins into his mental voodoo doll of Professor Suck-my-ass.

“Is he good?” Simon questions, totally ignoring the fact that Louis is, indeed, standing in front of them. “We’re always looking for fresh technicians.”

“He’s decent,” Ben shrugs, guiding Simon out the door.

 _Stabbing._ Louis is _stabbing_ mental pins into his mental Ben doll.

“I’m right here,” Louis mutters just as the duo passes him.

“Shame.” Louis hears Simon say to Ben as they disappear around the corner. “He has a great look.”

Louis lightly knocks his head back against the wall, supporting himself from falling into a crumpled mass on the ground. There goes his plan to revitalize his acting career. If Louis is brave, then he would chase after Professor Ben, but he’s not quite at that point yet.

Instead, he has rehearsal in an hour, and he could really use a nap before then.

-

When Louis enters the theatre late for rehearsal, he sees a swarm of people crowding around a spot on the stage. Normally the cast and crew meet on stage to touch base before the start of rehearsal, but those usually last five minutes, and it seems like _everyone_ in the theatre department is gathered for this meeting. What could possibly be happening?

And _of-fucking-course_ Louis would be stuck in the very back of this mob of people, him with his stupid short legs.

“What’s going on?” Louis whispers, craning his neck to see who everyone is listening to.

“Simon Cowell of Leed’s Rep,” Katie says next him. “Ben’s just introduced him. Apparently, he’s scouting!”

“ _Wha?_ ” Louis’ eyes widen, before jumping to see the very top of Simon’s head.

He grabs onto the girl’s shoulder, hoisting himself up onto the tips of toes. She doesn’t seem to mind. Now, Louis can properly see Simon’s face.

“As your director said, my name is Simon Cowell, founder and resident director of the Leeds Repertory Theatre,” he says, demeanor calm but demanding. “However, I will be taking a break from that position to focus on a short directing stint. I am pleased to announce that I will be directing a revival of _West Side Story_ for the Leeds Grand Theatre this summer.”

Be still Louis’ beating theatrical heart, because A: _West Side Story_ is a classic, and Louis’ favorite Sondheim musical (rough and tough boys doing pirouettes were the center of Louis’ teenage fantasies) and B: Leeds Grand Theatre, enough said.

“And lastly,” Simon says, after Ben hushes the wave of excited students, “I am beginning the casting process. As most of you know, I value fresh faces over seasoned actors. That is why I am here. I will be visiting quite often to invite hopefuls such as yourself to audition for my show.”

Simon is well known for churning out famous young actors into the entertainment world, using his company to cultivate their skills and build a repertoire. They are incredibly blessed by every god for his presence.

“I wish all of you the best of luck with your theatre season. I truly cannot wait to see the talent hidden amongst this department.” With a small wave of his hand, Simon turns, leaving the rest of the department to stare after him in awe, each actor most likely brimming with excitement—their potential big break has just entered their lives.

 _Lucky bastards_ , Louis thinks. Could Simon detect his acting potential based on his ability to mix the perfect paint consistency?

“Can you believe it?” A voice that has become like nails on a chalkboard to Louis says from behind him. Louis turns— _he has to_ —to see Nick, clutching his heart dramatically. “I have the chance to play my dream role.”

“Every role is your dream role,” Louis grumbles, pushing past Nick to join the rest of the students clearing the stage.

“Oh Lewis, why can’t you just be happy for me?” Louis can hear the taunting tone in Nick’s voice.

Louis turns over his shoulder. “I’m practically _shitting_ myself.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at a sputtering Nick, clearly alluding to his recent wet paint incident.

“Fuck you, Louis Tomlinson! I hope you drown in paint!”

“Me too,” Louis finishes, stealing the last word as the scene shop door shuts behind him.

In front of him, a stack of finished doors are laid out, ready to be stained. Louis lets out a sigh, an unwelcomed feeling of discouragement beginning to stir.

 _“You are a diamond in a sea of diarrhea, Louis Tomlinson,”_ Harry had said to him during his short power nap, attempting to cheer him up.

The comment didn’t make any sense, and at the time, only earned a pity chuckle out of Louis. But now, as Louis dips a clean paint brush into a vat of amber goop, he can’t help but burst into hysterical laughter.

-

“Ask me if I give a motherfuck, Niall. Ask.”

Niall throws his arms in the air, extremely insulted. “ _I_ give a fuck, Zayn! That’s the point!”

“What has Zayn done then?” Louis asks, taking a seat next to his fuming friend at their regular lunch table.

“Our once trusted friend Zayn exploited our pet tarantula by taking him to his hippie art class to use as a model! Poor Shelob! She’s claustrophobic, you know!” Niall exclaimed, his face twisted with distress.

September passed, and October rolled along—it was about time for bizarre shit like this to start happening.

“We don’t have a pet tarantula, Niall,” Louis states, but inevitably, it comes off as a fearful question.

Niall hardly blinks an eye. “Oh. Well... _surprise_.”

Louis pales.

“I put her back in your cupboard!” Zayn argues defensively.

Louis snaps his head towards Niall; he’s losing it. He shrieks, _“You’ve been keeping a giant spider in our cupboard?!”_

Niall calmly lays a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Louis, _mate_ , you’ve got to be more observant. And please, Shelob thrives in the dark!”

“You’re right,” Louis rolls his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. “How insensitive of me to forget tha— _I don’t fucking care, Niall! That creature sleeps with my tea!_ ”

“Ahem.”

Louis turns, dropping his flailing hands onto the table, and there’s Liam. Liam and some boy. _Oh no_. He side eyes Zayn, who has taken to drilling his eyes into his soup, jaw tight with tension.

It’s been a weird few months with Zayn and Liam being iffy towards one another, and this is just another piece to add to their mountain of strain.

“So, uh, did Louis find out about Shelob?” Liam asks, breaking the heavy fall of silence.

Louis groans. “Thanks Niall.”

However, Niall does not respond. Instead, Niall is openly staring at the boy next to Liam, maybe a little rudely. Louis nudges him under the table, but Niall is still flicking his gaze up and down No Name.

“Oh!” Liam puts his arms around No Name’s waist. “I wanted you guys to meet Blane. Blane’s my…well, he’s my...we’re dating?”

Louis has to grip the table to keep from jumping up in protest, but Liam seems...well, he’s seems fine, standing proudly, gripping the hand of Blane. The guy looks nice, dressed in school colors from head to toe and dark hair slicked back in a classy part, but, still.  _Zayn_.

Zayn coughs, voice suddenly hoarse and small. “Um, for how long?”

“Coming up on three weeks, aren’t we?” Blane’s voice is posh, probably a Law student.

He likes Zayn’s accent better.

“We met at the hospital,” Liam explains. “I put his stitches in. He got a deep cut while volunteering at a neighborhood nearby, rebuilding a destroyed children’s library.” He blushes. “Blane does that stuff.”

Zayn looks like he’s recalculating his life, while Liam looks on smug.

“That’s so great!” Louis says, forcing a smile on his face. He looks to Niall to do the same, but Niall just looks uncomfortable.

“Anyway, we’re about to get lunch in the city,” Liam says, sensing the uneasiness. “Just wanted to stop by.”

As soon as Liam and his new boytoy are out of view, Niall smacks Zayn.

“That’s your fault, mate.”

Zayn doesn’t show any signs of opposition. He instead looks forlornly at the spot where Liam once stood. Niall was a sorta right. Liam _had_ been waiting, it was obvious to anyone. Zayn remains silent, and Louis wants to reach out and pet him.

“Atleast, one of us is getting some loving.” Niall turns to Louis, leaving Zayn to mourn. “And you’re next.”

Louis immediately shakes his head, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “No, I’m really not.”

“Louis,” Niall averts his tension to his half-eaten lunch. “It’s been too long! Boys are waiting at your backdoor!”

“My backdoor?”

Niall wiggles his eyebrows at Louis. Cheeks filled with chips, he swallows with difficulty. “Ya know what I mean.”

“I thought I raised you better."

“You’re lonely!” Niall says, blatantly ignoring Louis' unamused expression. He grips Louis tightly, and looks into his eyes with sudden trepidation. “Louis, I hear you talking to yourself in your room.”

Louis blushes. Somehow, Louis forgot that their walls are paper thin. God, he must’ve sounded like a lunatic, reciting monologues about broken marriages and unrequited love. “I was just—that’s just me—I’m _practicing_.” His voices goes small. “Monologues and stuff.”

Niall claps his back excitedly. “Lad! You’re going back to acting?”

“Trying to,” Louis shakes his head lamely.

Niall shrugs. “Still counts. Proud of you, anyway.”

Louis relents, sincerely smiling at his childhood friend. Niall is never one to push Louis to step out of his comfort zone, but instead, he's someone that would hold Louis’ hand if he chose to do so. Louis values that.

Finally, Zayn’s voice breaks their wordless love fest.

“What kind of a name is Blane?” He looks up at his friends, his deep eyes crestfallen and voice coming in like a whimper.

Louis immediately comes around Niall, just so that he can cling onto Zayn while Niall rubs his back comfortingly.

“The kind that rhymes with _Zayn_ ,” Louis mutters to Niall.

Zayn hears, falling onto the table with a whine.

Niall shrugs. “‘s true.”

***

“No!”

“Yes!”

“And his name is _Blane_?”

Louis nods at Harry. Their feet are dangling over the cliff. The bottomless drop still leaves Louis with a dizzying sensation and nervous flips of his stomach, so he chooses to look up. It’s a beautiful night; Louis made it so. The dark sky above them is painted with starlight, expanding all around them—perfect for stargazing.

The past few months have consisted of Harry and Louis talking about each other's day or just enjoying each other's presence. It’s easy with Harry, Louis thinks, it’s as if they’ve known each other for ages.

But they’ve never hung out under the nighttime sky, until Harry pointed it out, of course.

“Ask and you shall receive,” Louis had said as soon as Harry suggested Louis work his dream magic.

It’s perfect—a great way to end his hectic day.

“Damn,” Harry mumbles, referring to the trainwreck that was Zayn and Liam. “I wish they would just work it out. If _I_ was there, I’d have a plan.”

“Like what?” Louis asks, an amused smile etched on his face.

Harry pauses. “I dunno.” Waving a dismissive hand, he states, “But it’d be romantic, that’s for sure.”

Louis can see it.

“I just can’t believe Liam would do that,” Louis continues, shaking his head. He always thought that it would end well, that Liam could move past Zayn’s denseness—not _move on_.

Harry makes a noise of protest. “I can!” Reacting to Louis’ surprised face, he continues. “How long have those two been fawning over each other? _Too long_. It’d be selfish for Zayn to expect Liam to wait, you know? He doesn’t owe him that. He just deserves to be happy and if he is—”

“But he isn’t,” Louis sighs. “Not truly. He’s better off with Z. Ugh, Niall and I should’ve gone through with that closet idea when we had the chance.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “Rightttt. Well, don’t think I’ve stopped rooting for them.”

“Aww,” Louis clutches his heart, eyebrows dipping in mock fondness. “Harry, our very own cheerleader.”

“Is that what I am, then?” Harry chuckles.

It made sense. Harry can only watch from the sidelines, since he’s basically living in Louis’ head and all. He can never mix with Louis’ reality. But yet, he’s still involved as anyone, offering advice and investing himself in every aspect of Louis’ life. He’s Louis’ personal cheerleader and he’s glad for it.

Louis nods fervently, doing a poor imitation of a cheer routine, to which Harry lets out a bark of laughter.

“Could rock the uniform,” Harry muses, his head tilting to the side, as if he’s actually mulling the idea over.

“You’d rip your pants the minute you’d try a split,” Louis adds.

“I was thinking a skirt.”

“And I was thinking pants.”

“Well clearly, we’re not on the same page.”

Louis falls backwards, his back shaking with laughter against the ground. Soon, Harry joins him, and now they’re both cackling under the stars, images of Cheerleader Harry dancing in their minds.

“I can’t unsee it,” Louis chokes.

Their laughter dies out, and a comfortable silence soon follows. Louis’ stomach hurts from all the laughing and his cheeks ache from smiling, and it’s everything Louis never knew he needed.

“Louis,” Harry says quietly into the silent night. “Are you happy?”

When Louis turns his head, he sees Harry looking directly at him, and even in the dark, Harry’s green eyes shine through.

“What...what do you mean?” Louis manages to say.

Harry bites his lip, like he’s proceeding with caution. “It’s just, ever since I first saw you, I felt like something was off. And I just want to make sure if you’re better now? If I’m…”

And that’s when Louis realizes that Harry really does care. He’s practically bursting with affection for the boy next to him.

“Helping?” Louis interjects. “Well, you are. I’m lucky to have you.”

Really, Louis is. He’s better when Harry’s around.

Harry beams under Louis’ gaze. “Lucky we’re friends.”

“Yeah, that.” Louis resides to changing the topic as the idea of being a little bit more than friends creeps into his mind, an idea that Louis has shamefully pondered more often than not. “ _And what about you?_ You can’t remember anything but your name! Are you okay with that?”

Harry tilts his head back up to the stars, the moon casting an iridescent glow on his face as he contemplates Louis’ question.

“Well, yeah? I like it here. It’s nice and I love when you’re around.” It’s true. Harry runs like a puppy to his owner when Louis pops up. “And yeah, I want to know more about me, about us, but...I’m happy to be here.”

Louis accepts that. Feeling abashedly elated that Harry is happy to be with him, Louis joins Harry’s stargazing. The expanse of gleaming dots make Louis feel small in comparison. It’s breathtaking. You can’t see this from his tiny dorm in the city.

“What’s that super bright one over there?” Louis says, noticing a dot that’s glowing brighter than the rest, a hypnotizing twinkle. He can’t keep his eyes off of it. “A planet or something?”

“That’s Sirius,” Harry points.

“I _was_ serious.”

Harry chuckles. “No, the _name_ is Sirius. It’s the brightest star in our night sky. Well, second brightest.” He turns to Louis. “You’re the first.”

Louis snorts, his cheeks turning a few shades deeper. “Smooth, Harry. Very smooth.”

“I try,” Harry smirks. “Now you’re turn.”

“No.”

“Not capable of such power,” Harry sniffs. “I knew it.”

“Hey!” Louis twists his neck to shoot Harry a glare, but a sharp pain shoots through his head. “OW!” He gets up on his forearms, shaking off the quick stab of discomfort.

Harry immediately looks up at Louis, suddenly washed with genuine concern. “What? What’s wrong?”

Louis grumbles, “I think I scraped my head on a twig. It’s nothing.”

“Oh,” Harry shrugs. He wiggles closer to Louis’ body, reaching a long arm out on the ground, covering the spot where Louis once rested. “You can lay back down.”

Louis feels his lips quirk upwards, staring at Harry like he’s unreal (which is possible, but Louis would like to think otherwise).

“Come on, then,” Harry encourages, patting the ground.

Louis slowly lies back down, adjusting his head on Harry’s arm. This can’t be comfortable for him. Harry promptly scoots closer, and Louis tenses, feeling the air grow hot around him.

“Good?”

Louis lets out a shaky laugh. “Always wanted a pillow like this.”

“Well, you got one.”

Louis turns to see Harry smiling right at him, and he can’t help but quickly look away.

Two things are running through his mind:

  1. Harry lied. _He_ isthe brightest star in the sky.

  2. Louis wishes he could have Harry, like this, every second of every day.




Make it three:

      3) Louis is in deep, deep shit.

-

Louis can’t help but whine when he wakes up. Why, why, _why_ is he awake? And why isn’t Harry next to him? And why is his perfectly soft pillow nothing compared to Harry?

Blinking back sleep, he sees a figure sitting on the foot of his bed, tilting his head at the rousing Louis. Louis shrieks, sits up, and backs himself up against the headboard, shaking his head.

When his vision clears, he registers that the once creepy figure is Niall. _Who else?_

“Niall,” Louis groans. “How many times?”

“I didn’t sleep here or anything,” Niall says defensively, edging closer to Louis. “Phew! _Hello, morning breath_.”

Louis self-consciously covers his mouth, shooting an annoyed glare at his blonde friend. “Then why are you in my bed?”

“I was worried!” Niall says, rolling over so he’s sat next to Louis. “Heard you talking in your sleep. And then I heard…” A smirk stretches across his face. “So, is _Harry_ your secret boyfriend, then?”

Louis chokes on his spit. “WHAT?”

“Is this why you’re so happy?” Niall continues, poking Louis’ sides. “Are you seeing some guy named Harry?” His eyes widen when Louis sheepishly looks away.

_Busted._

“Wait... _NO_! Are you seeing Harry? _Harry_ from our childhood?” Louis makes no attempt to reply. “He’s back!?”

“Niall…”

“I thought we were done with him!” A familiar flicker of jealously flashes in Niall’s eyes. “Are you seeing other friends, Tommo? Are you not happy with my friendship?”

Years ago, this would’ve been comical. But they’re older now _and_ they have Zayn and Liam. Come on, Niall. Louis shakes his head, smacking Niall’s chest. “Shut up, will you?I saw him once. It was nothing, and then I had a dream about him.”

He’s never met Harry and he’s had several dreams, actually. Now that Niall suspects that Harry is around again, he’s going to have to make up more lies like this. More than ten years of Harry, and now, more than ten years of lying to Niall. He’s not sure if he can handle it this time around.

“And will you see him again?” Niall crosses his arms.

Louis takes a long pause, thinking of how to approach this.

“Yes.”

“You will?”

_Here it goes._

“I can’t help it,” Louis begins hesitantly. “Niall, I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t freak out or call me crazy, even if it sounds like it is.”

Niall beckons Louis to continue, peeking with curiosity.

“I’ve never actually met Harry,” Louis says, instantly squeezing his eyes shut to avoid seeing Niall’s reaction.

“Um, okay,” Niall sounds genuinely dumbstruck. “But you did...you said so. You were always at his house!”

“I lied,” Louis sighs, opening his eyes to see a dumbstruck Niall.  “It was just too weird to say out loud.”

Niall, being ever so patient, continues calmly. “So, then who’s Harry? Are you saying he’s, like, imaginary?”

“No! I mean, yes. Kinda. Actually, _I don’t know_ ,” Louis moans. Really, it’s a mystery. “Harry is...he’s boy that has sorta reappeared in my dreams since I was nine, except, he didn’t really talk to me. Like, he couldn’t see me. He’s around our age, I think. We kinda grew up together And then he kinda went away once uni started, but he came back recently. And he talks now, _which is great_ , and he’s nice, just incase you’re wondering. But he doesn’t remember anything, so I can’t really tell _who_ he is, if he’s real or just all in my head. But he _is_ my friend! Just a friend in my head, I guess.”

He lets out a deep breath after finishing his monologue, resting his head against the headboard. He gauges Niall’s reaction, which is, simply put: _what the fuck_.

“Do you believe me?” Louis says, fear residing in his stomach. Maybe Niall wants to throw him into the loony bin, he thinks.

He should’ve just lied.

Niall is frozen for a second, before nodding slowly. “...Yes?” Louis can deal with that. “But it’s fucking _bizzare_ , mate.”

“But you believe me?”

“Of course, Louis,” Niall affirms, nudging Louis, as if he shouldn’t have doubted him for a second. “It sounds sick, so I have to.”

Niall is the best, he really is.

“One more thing,” Louis says quickly. “Promise not to tell the others? I mean, they weren’t around when we were younger. They wouldn’t understand. They’ll...they’ll think I’m crazy.”

Niall pats Louis’ head. “Promise.”

-

At lunch, Louis is greeted by a highly amused Zayn, roaring with hyena-like laughter and pointing a finger at Louis.

Niall is the worst, he really is.

“FUCK YOU, NIALL! I TOLD YOU NOT TO TELL!” Louis squeals, slamming his tray down onto their table, sitting himself next to his traitor of a friend.

Niall, who is doing a poor job of stifling his laughter, grabs at Louis, but Louis pulls away. “Sorry, mate. But it...it was just so cool and then...not so cool. Funny, actually.”

“You have a _dream boy_! A literal dream boy!” Zayn cries, pounding his fist against the table.

“Fuck you, Zayn.”

“Hey, hey Louis! So when we wou—” Zayn gasps for air. “So when we would ask you who your dream guy was and you’d refuse to answer is it because— _oh my god_!”

“Fuck you again.”

Zayn and Niall cling onto each other in a pile of yodel like laughter.

Honestly, it’s the loudest Zayn has ever been. Louis thinks he prefers him sulking in the corner.

“ _Blane_ ,” Louis spits back at Zayn. The results are as expected. Zayn face instantly crumples, taken aback by Louis’ outburst.

_“How could you?”_

Speaking of, Liam appears over Niall’s shoulder, lunch bag in tow. “Hiya lads.”

“Oh, hey Liam!” Louis greets with faux enthusiasm. “Where’s _Blane_?” That’s for Zayn.

Zayn growls under his breath.

“Who? Oh! Blane.” Liam sits on the other side of Zayn, surprisingly unbothered by the boy next to him. Zayn, on the other hand, is squirming with awkward tension. “Busy, I guess. But hey, Louis, Niall told me about Harry. Just, _wow_.”

“Niall!” Louis seethes, grabbing at one of Niall’s nipples.

He ducks away, giggling. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s just strange,” Liam continues. “Don’t you think it’s strange?”

Louis shrugs. It’s been so long, the idea of having a boy like Harry doesn’t seem so bizarre anymore—to him.

“Obviously,” Louis says, “it’s unheard of, but I’m used to it now. It’s nice.”

Liams smile tightens, obviously disturbed, and Louis wishes he wasn’t. “But, Louis, _mate_ , you have a friendship with a boy who doesn’t even exist in reality, who is probably just a figment of your imagination or something.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Louis says, voice low. His cheeks suddenly feel warm, and his body starts to twitch when he spots Niall and Zayn giggling behind their food.

“But,” Liam starts cautiously, “it’s true isn’t it?”

No, it’s not true. It really isn’t. It can’t be.

“Even if it is,” Louis says, refusing to meet Liam’s stare, in fear that he might burn holes into his best friend’s eyes. “I don’t think it’s a problem. We talk. About everything. And I dunno, it feels normal.”

Liam condescendingly rolls his eyes. “But it _isn’t_ normal, Louis.”

“He has a point,” Niall says, laughter finally waning. “I mean, it’s cool that you have that, but it’s not normal. I mean, maybe you should see someone?”

“Having a relationship that’s not real isn’t healthy,” Liam adds, shooting a quick glance to Zayn. He turns back to Louis, looking at him as if he’s his patient, as if he needs treatment. Louis grips onto his seat, knuckles paling in color.

How could they sit there and _just say that_?

Zayn starts to speak, but before he can, Louis stops him.

“It’s real!” Louis snaps. “You have no right to make these assumptions, okay? You don’t know Harry.”

He isn’t going to let them talk about Harry like that any longer. His friends flinch, watching with panicked eyes as Louis jumps from his seat. He wants to be able to look down at them, so they know how fucking _disappointed_ he is in his friends.

“Listen. I care about Harry and he cares about me! And that’s all I could really ask for at this point,” Louis says, his voice is shaking. He’s not really sure what he’s saying as words fly out of his mouth, but he’s feeling something. He’s angry and disappointed and impassioned, and that _means something_. “He’s helped me when I felt like I couldn’t be help, and he makes me happy. And for you lot to just sit there and laugh at him and degrade him is just— _it’s not fucking okay!_ ”

“Louis, we—”

“No! I’m talking!” Louis fires back. He can feel the eyes of strangers staring at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing making a scene like this. But he doesn’t care; he’s not finished. “You’re wrong to cheapen my friendship with Harry! Because to fucking ridicule him is to ridicule _my_ happiness. And—that’s just—that’s not what friends are supposed to do!”

Niall’s voice breaks. “Louis.”

“So I don’t care if you don’t think this relationship isn’t real, because it’s fucking real to me,” he says, punctuating each word with the anger boiling inside him.

When Louis finishes, he takes a much need breath. Niall reaches out to him, but Louis pushes him off. Instead, he quickly turns, storming away from the table and away from his friends.

And despite the fact that he can hear footsteps, Niall’s presumably, pounding the pavement after him, Louis doesn’t stop. He doesn’t need this right now.

He can hear his name being called out, but he won’t turn around. He can hear the buzzing of his phone, probably Liam or Zayn, groveling for forgiveness, but he won’t give them that.

It fucking hurt to be confronted like that. He owes them nothing, he thinks, not now. Instead, he swerves through passing students, hoping to lose Niall. Niall is popular on campus, could drown himself in hello’s and fistbumps, it’d be easy.

Louis’ head feels heavy, aching with numbness, and he just wants to be fixed.

He can’t really think, but somehow, he makes it back to his building, and Niall has somehow caught up with him.

“Louis. Louis. _Louis, please_!” He says after him, as they climb up the stairs.

Louis feels Niall’s hand grip onto his shoulder, but he shrugs the touch off. It’s really inconvenient that Niall lives with him, because as Louis shuts the door behind him, Niall simply unlocks it.

“We fucked up, Louis,” Niall pants, throwing his bag onto the floor, tailing Louis like a lost puppy.  

Louis enters his room, whipping around to see Niall frozen in the doorway, eyes filled with regret.

“Yeah, you did.”

He slams the door in his face.

Louis should feel bad, but he doesn’t. He can’t feel anything right now.

***

“You’re angry. Why are you angry?” Harry says as soon as he sees Louis storming through the bed of flowers, a strange sight to behold, really.

“Nothing,” Louis mumbles, eyes to the ground. “Distract me.”

But Harry pull lightly at his elbows, stopping him in his tracks. Harry hovers over Louis, and when Louis looks up he shudders under his attentive gaze. _“Louis._ ”

Louis offers a small smile, that’s all he can muster.

But it feels good to melt under Harry’s touch, to feel less cold. “Just tell me something else. I’ll be fine.”

Louis walks a few feet forward, before turning over his shoulder to beckon an unconvinced Harry to follow. Hesitantly, Harry meets up with Louis, brushing up against his side.

“Well, um…” Harry begins, searching for something to say that could hopefully ease Louis’ tension. “I heard something today while you were gone.”

“You’ve heard things? Like what?” Louis asks, grateful for the change of subject.

Harry rubs at the back of his neck. “It was a woman’s voice? I couldn’t really make out what she was saying, you know? It sounded all mushy. But...I think she said my name.”

“Oh,” Louis’ voice trails off, a million possibilities running through his mind. His heart drops. “Maybe, uh, maybe a girlfriend...perhaps?”

He steels himself for Harry’s response.

Harry’s face contorts, as if tasting something sour. “Try again.”

Louis brightens, a wide grin spreading across his face. Maybe there’s hope for him after all. “Oh! Okay, so...sister, maybe? Or your mum!”

“Family?” Harry's head tilts, the idea visibly resolving in his expression. “You think I have a family?”

A quick memory floods Louis’ mind, an image of a younger Harry running home to the call of a woman’s voice, flower crowns in tow. “When we were little, I remember hearing a woman call your name home. I’m sure it was your mum.”

Harry’s eyes glitter under the sun, wide with hope. The image makes not only Louis’ fondness for the boy grow, but his sympathy as well. What if Harry believes something that isn’t true? The idea of Harry figuring out that he isn’t part of Louis’ world, that he doesn’t exist outside his dreams, would be heartbreaking. For him and for Louis.

“That’s amazing,” Harry says under his breath.

Louis feels the need to backtrack. “But Harry…listen. I don’t want you to–”

A familiar feeling comes rushing to him, strangely sudden. He looks to Harry, his body and voice seem far away. He can hear a garbled noise coming from the back of his mind, echoing so loudly he can hardly think. It’s like he’s unattached, like the ground could drop from him at any second.

He hates this feeling, because it means one thing.

“Harry, I—I think I’m waking up,” Louis quickly says, reaching his hand out for his friend to take.

He can barely feel Harry’s touch, can barely make out the disheartened look on his face. “Lou—”

It’s the worst kind of goodbye, he thinks.

“There’s knocking at my door, I’m going to—"

-

What Louis first sees through his hazy vision is his bedroom door swinging wide open. At first, he thinks its a ghost. But in one swift motion, three bodies topple on top of Louis, knocking the wind right out of him.

Louis utters a string of curse words under his breath as he begins to register the hurried voices of Niall, Liam, and Zayn. Books and papers are flying all around him, and he’s annoyed. Very, very annoyed. But underneath his annoyance, he hears sincere apologies, albeit, over one another’s voices, but he gets it—they’re really fucking sorry.

“We didn’t mean to sound harsh!”

“That was all Liam, honest.”

“Fuck you, Niall. I didn’t laugh in his face!”

“Okay...that was me too. But I have _Plato_!”

When Louis decides that he’s had enough, he wriggles violently under their weight. “Okay. Okay. _Okay!_ ” Niall, Liam, and Zayn back away slowly, cautious of what Louis will say. “First, what the fuck is this? Second, Plato? Zayn, what the hell?”

Zayn sheepishly holds a book up in the air, the title reads: _Phaedo_. Great, more of Zayn’s philosophical bullshit. But, _why?_

Niall comes around to sit next to Louis, burrowing himself into Louis’ side.

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re sorry,” Liam says. “And you needed to hear us.”

“So we jumped on you,” Niall says.

Liam sweeps onto the other side of Louis. He’s a Louis sandwich. “I was such an arse about the whole thing. Am I skeptical? Yeah. But that’s because I’ve never heard anything like it before, you know? So when I thought about it some more, I realized: if this is happening to _you_ —this completely unique situation—then it _must_ be important.”

Zayn pats Louis’ leg, offering a sideways smile. “And we’re gonna figure it out, mate.”

“If Harry matters to you,” Niall says to Louis, “then he matters to us.”

Louis can’t fight the wobbly smile thats creeps onto his face. First, there’s Liam. Liam, who is usually so adamant about being correct, is admitting that he’s wrong, that he’s genuinely sorry. Then there’s Zayn, clutching a handful of printed paper and books, probably teeming with whatever research he could come up with. And then there’s Niall, who he never really doubted in the slightest, who’d follow Louis to the ends of the earth if he asked.

His friends, although a bit dim at times, are the best friends he could’ve asked for. To put aside their doubt, to believe in Louis— _that’s everything._

“We’ll do everything to help you,” Niall continues, “if you’ll have us.”

Louis squeezes Niall’s forearm reassuringly, and the worry in his friend’s face diminishes, a great flood of relief replacing it.

“You’re a fucking weepy mess, Niall.” He turns to acknowledge the rest of his friends with a grin on his face. “But of course I’ll have you.”

-

Maybe it’s a good thing that Niall told Zayn and Liam his deepest and darkest secret.

Now, it’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He can talk about Harry without any shame, Meanwhile his friends have begun to act as if Harry’s an extension to the group, the friend that’s never around.

And besides the fact that they’ve reached some semblance of normalcy about Louis’ dream boy, Zayn, Liam, and Niall have thoroughly invested themselves into figuring out who Harry is.

“Your dreams are beyond medical,” Liam says to him, digging into a tupperware filled to the brim with pasta. “I asked around, but there’s not a case relative to yours. Harry is a marvel.”

It’s just the two of them in Liam’s breakroom. Sometimes, if Louis feels charitable, he’ll bring dinner to Liam at the hospital (and he’ll usually try to scurry away before Liam talks about all the blood he’s taken that day).

“But I never saw it as that,” Louis shrugs. He tries to steal a meatball off of Liam, but he swats his hand away. “When I was little, I just thought: _oh cool, I have a new friend_!”

“And you never stopped to wonder why he couldn’t see you?”

Louis shakes his head. “Not really. And when he did see me...I was happy. Like, I don’t know. It felt right.”

Liam’s gaze drifts away from Louis, deep in thought. “Huh. Well...that sounds like something Zayn could help you with, maybe.”

“Zayn?” A mischievous grin settles upon Louis’ face. “And how is Zayn?”

“Shut up. We’re not talking about him.”

-

“Shut the fuck up, Louis. We’re not talking about him.”

Zayn sighs, rolling off his bed and stumbling into his desk chair. Rarely do Louis and his friends spend time in Zayn’s room, and he’s reminded why. There’s hardly any space. The room is riddled with unfinished projects, art supplies, and tossed books. It’s literally an artist’s mine field.

Meanwhile, Louis is sat on the floor, batting his eyelashes up at Zayn. The topic of their strange relationship was hard to talk about at first, but now that Blane is evidently out of the picture (Liam: “He wanted to be serious, but I wasn’t ready to settle and plus I hate the way he gels his hair”), it’s about time that they both kicked it into overdrive.

Liam is hardly heartbroken, and Louis and Niall didn't predict that he would be. 

“ _I_ know,” Zayn quips, clicking his laptop on. “Let’s talk about _Harry_.”

"Mmm, a favorite topic of mine."

Zayn shoots him a pointed look, causing Louis to quickly gesture at him to carry on, flushed cheeks.

"Anyway," Zayn turns back to his screen, his fingers skirting across the keys. "Liam told me everything you said to him the other day.” He looks at Louis over his shoulder, impressed. “That’s...that’s something.”

“What is?”

Zayn pauses thoughtfully. “You said being with Harry felt right, yeah? That he made you happy and all that?” Louis nods. “Take a look at this.”

Zayn rotates in his lopsided chair, and Louis scrambles onto his feet to peer over his friend's shoulder. Zayn wiggles his mouse around, motioning to a blur of text, big words that Louis has no patience for.

“Translate, please?” Louis murmurs, nudging Zayn to speak.

Zayn fondly rolls his eyes, clears his throat, and continues. “When you described your relationship with Harry, I couldn’t help but go back to a thing we studied in class. It—”

Louis holds up a hand. “English, Art, Philosophy, or _Achieving Perfection_?”

“Philosophy,” Zayn scoffs, although a smug smile is hidden beneath his annoyance (he’s pretty, and he knows it).

“So anyway, there’s this guy, Plato,” Zayn continues, and Louis rolls his eyes. “You may have heard of him. So, in one of his dialogues there’s this story, and _in_ this story it says that the original human had four arms, four legs, and two faces. Then, as a punishment made by Zeus, the human form was split, leaving two parts of a whole scattered throughout the universe, longing for their other half—their soul.”

The image of being torn apart by Zeus’ lightning causes Louis to squirm. It’s all he can think about now. “And?” He questions, voice distant with the image of lightning striking a weird, two faced being. 

“Not finished,” Zayn cuts in. He digs through the scattered items on his desk, before revealing _Phaedo_ , a worn book wary from its usage throughout the years. “Our man Plato also believed that our souls were immortal. It existed before birth and will continue to exist after death. It’s like, we go through this cycle of rebirth, but our soul stays the same, I guess? What I’m saying is...is that maybe this soulmate thing exists.”

Louis probably looks like he’s about to combust, his forehead scrunched in confusion.

Zayn mutters something indistinguishable to himself, before leaning forward. “Listen, Louis,” he articulates. “They say that when you find your other half it’s like...it’s like there’s this silent understanding. This easy awareness that you two are meant to be together, that you’re happy, that you’re—”

“Complete,” Louis finishes, the word spilling out of his lips naturally.

Zayn perks up. “Yeah! That’s it.” He spins in his chair as if to celebrate Louis’ comprehension. He skids to a halt, facing Louis. “And look, I don’t mean to sound crazy, and I’m not saying all of this is true. See, I don’t know if we were split into halves, and I don’t know if the soul is immortal and shit. But what he writes...it makes you want _want_ to believe it, you know? That there is somebody out there that you’re deeply connected to. Somebody that you knew lifetimes ago, before birth and through death.”

 _Somebody that’s yours_ , Louis thinks, _and together, you’re one._

He likes the idea of it too. Yeah, Zayn’s philosophical mumbo jumbo usually makes Louis’ brain fry, but there’s something in Zayn’s words that he connects to.

It’s beautiful and meaningful, and for some fucking reason, all he can imagine in his head is Harry and himself, lying on their backs under the sultry sun, soaking each other's presence, an unspoken unity between them.

How phenomenal, Louis imagines, to be able to find someone and say: _I’ve loved you longer than my body has been alive._

“It’s not a bad idea,” Louis says. His voice is quiet, still caught in his own thoughts. “Playdough is on to something.”

“Plato.”

“Details,” Louis dismisses.

“I figured it would give some perspective,” Zayn shrugs. “I’m not saying it’s the answer, but in all actuality, it’s not like some divine being is going to sweep in from the heavens and tell us _why_ particular things happen to us. We find certainty in uncertainty because it's something to hold onto. Maybe...maybe you can hold onto this.”

“Maybe you and Harry are soulmates,” Zayn continues. He quickly adds, “ _Platonic_ , of course.”

Louis is taken aback at first.

Of course, platonic, right. They’re not a thing, Harry and Louis.

“Right, just lads,” Louis chuckles lamely. “Just lads being connected through the soul in a laddy-bro way.”

Zayn looks at him weirdly, an awkward silence passing between them.

“So, soulmates!” Louis chimes nervously. “Why do you know so much about the subject?”

Strangely, Zayn slightly coils inward, his gaze averting to the ground. If Louis tilts his head, he can see a hint of a smile on Zayn’s lips, a sudden warm expression.

“Oh,” he says quietly, “I’ve always been interested, I guess.”

-

Louis probably shouldn’t be here.

He’s walking along side Niall—in the middle of one of his student tours. And _if_ Niall was an exceptional tour guide, he would shoo Louis away or disregard him until his shift was over.

However, Niall is far from exceptional. After all, he’s blatantly ignoring the hesitant newcomers tailing behind him just so he can talk to Louis instead.

Occasionally, he’ll point out a building with a noncommittal gesture and say something like, _‘This is where we eat’_ or _‘Here is where we learn’_.

Louis really should leave; he’s part of the problem. But Niall insisted that he accompany Louis on his walk to rehearsal.

“So, how’s your day been, Sleepyhead?” Niall asks, a playful grin on his face.

“Sleepyhead?” Louis grumbles.

Niall huffs. “Oh please, I still have every right to poke _a little_ fun. Not in a mean way, of course. But like the way we make fun of Zayn for being in show choir.” He pushes his hair up, and makes his voice uncannily match their singing friend. “We’re a respected A cappella group. _Niall, please._ ”

“Makes sense.”

After their laughter subsides, Niall lightly bumps Louis’ shoulders, nervous. “Hey, Tommo, I still want to apologize about Harry.”

“Niall, you’ve apologized, like, ten times,” Louis says sternly.

Niall frowns. “Yeah, but I still feel like shite whenever I think of you upset.”

Louis fondly admonishes Niall, gripping his shoulders and shaking them gently. “Niallllll.”

“I’m serious!” Niall rebukes, “I was so jealous when we were younger, and now that I know everything, I know that Harry’s a good lad. He’s special.”

“Special?” Louis tilts his head at Niall, cheeks warming.

Niall shrugs sheepishly. “I like it when you’re happy. It makes me wish that he was here in person, y’know? He’d be a great addition.”

“I told him you two would get along. He’s quite fond of you,” Louis adds, causing a grin to stretch across Niall’s face. Louis sniffs snootily.“Don’t know why though.”

Niall puffs out his chest. “You know why.”

Louis remains silent until Niall pokes at his sides repeatedly. He chuckles, batting his persistent friend away. “I do. You were my first real friend, Ni. And a damn great one at that. I’m never ever going to forget that, even when I’m old and senile.”

 _“Um?”_ They feel a tap on both of their shoulders. Turning around, they see a short boy with prospective gear on, clearly agitated. “Niall, aren’t you going to show—”

Niall shushes him, smacking a finger to the boy’s lips. “Oi, can’t you see I’m having a talk here?” Niall shakes his head, annoyed, before continuing to walk. He calls out to the tour group. “Just keep up and enjoy the view!”

“Sorry about that,” Niall mumbles to Louis. “Anyway, where were you? You were saying something about how great I am...not sure….”

Louis smirks. “You’re the best.”

Niall comes to a stop in front of the performing arts building. He turns to Louis, a wobbly smile on his face, and wipes a fake tear from his eyes. “What does a poor irish lad gotta do to get a hug around here?”

Louis quickly moves to wrap his arms around an emotional Niall, shooting an apologetic look to the tour group behind them. They picked the wrong day to visit the university.

“You think Harry is out there?” Niall asks as he finally pulls away from Louis. “I hope so, but even if he isn’t, it’s nice that you have him.”

“Thanks, Niall.” Louis squeezes his hand, because he really means it. He’s lucky to have Niall. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He almost forgets. Before going through the doors, he hollers at the group impatiently waiting beside Niall.

“Don’t forget to tip your tour guide," he says with a salute, and with a wink from Niall, he turns to partake in what might be a bearable rehearsal.

-

Louis sighs, dropping a tray of paint onto the stage, a tall paint roller in his other hand.

The stage is eerily quiet, save for the distant noise of crew work coming from the scene shop.

He was called to give the stage a fresh coat of paint before acting rehearsals—and to lay out wet paint signs along the set. Fortunately, it’s just him in the theatre. As _Romeo and Juliet_ starts to wind down, opening night drawing near, the theatre has become hectic. So Louis’ grateful for the time alone, even if he has to do manual labor.

He inserts his headphones in, the prominent notes of Sondheim's _West Side Story_ trickling through his ears. Ugh, he’s a theatre boy through and through.

Slamming his roller onto the ground, carefully spreading the paint onto the stage, Louis’ mind retreats back to his conversation with Niall. The possibility of Harry being out there suddenly begins to sink in, and his heart starts to flutter.

And there’s Zayn, Liam, and Niall, each of them being perfect and supportive in every way.

It makes Louis believe that no matter what happens in his life, at least he has these four people beside him (one of them in spirit, of course).

A rushing emotion surges in Louis— _it’s hope._ And he hasn’t felt it in a long time. [Something’s Coming](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2n-bfNm1SA) starts playing on his iPod, and much like the spotlight shining down on him, maybe life can start shining on him too.

 _“Could be,”_ he sings under his breath, _“Who knows? There’s something due any day; I will know right away, soon as it shows…”_

His voice rings throughout the empty auditorium, ricocheting off the high domed ceilings. His voice is unpracticed, except for the many times he’s woken up Niall by singing in the shower. Nevertheless, he finds the notes coming to him perfectly.

Louis turns centerstage, casting his paint roller aside, and planting his feet onto the ground.

He’s Tony from _West Side Story_ , voice carrying out into the night, because maybe love is going to come his way. He feels it.

_“Could it be? Yes it could! Something coming, something good…”_

But then, he’s also Louis Tomlinson. The audience is filled with adoring fans, and backstage waiting for him are his closest friends, Zayn, Liam, and Niall. And Harry. Harry is there.

Hopping from dry spot to dry spot, Louis’ voice is loud and powerful. He feels so good, like he’s won. And when his feet skirt across the stage, he feels electric.

_“Something’s coming, I don’t know what it is, but it is gonna be great!”_

This is where he’s meant to be, he thinks as he stops center stage one last time. With extended arms, he soaks up the energy from his unabashed solo performance, holding out a long note.

 _Should I go for the spin?_ Louis thinks to himself. _I should go for the spin._

Thank god he’s alone. He might have to dig himself into a hole if he’s not.

 _“Arounnnnndd the corner,”_   he belts, twirling in his spot and—

“OH SHIT!”

Louis rips his headphones out of his ears, tumbling onto the stage floor.

It’s silent. And standing in front of him is _Simon Cowell_ , with a smug smile on his lips and a calculating look in his eyes. Backstage, he can see Ben looking like a fish out of water.

He’s a disappointment to the department.

“S-sorry, I-I was just painting,” Louis stammers, scrambling onto his feet.

Simon meets Louis center stage, chuckling dryly. “You were doing much more than that.” He sticks out his hand. “You’re... _Louis._  From Ben’s office. The unfortunate technician?”

Louis wipes his sweaty palms against his jeans, and takes Simon’s hand. His heart has accelerated a mile a minute, and he’s seriously considering finding a shovel so he can dig himself into a hole and die.

“Well, I _am_ unfortunate, but I’m also Louis Tomlinson,” he says shaikly. “Its, uh, nice to run into you.”

Simon shakes his head, amused. “Let’s cut right to the chase, Louis Tomlinson. You look the part and you can sing.”

Louis steps back, astonished because _the_ Simon Cowell just complimented him.

“It’s hard to grasp any possible Tony’s from watching _Romeo and Juliet_ rehearsals,” Simon continues, “but I have quite awhile till I need to start making casting decisions, so I’m not worried. However  _you_ , at this moment, have showed me a quality that I’ve been looking for.”

Simon gauges Louis’ silence. Louis gulps, anxiously gravitating closer as Simon holds him by a thread.

What is happening?

“Let’s count this as your audition,” Simon smiles, and it’s like Louis is floating, literally, he feels like he’s about to burst. “I’d like to offer you a callback. I’ll give you time to think about it, but call me. I’ll be waiting.”

Louis nods fervently. Jesus christ, what is this, _High School Musica_ l? Is he Troy Bolton in the flesh?

“Is everything okay, Simon?" Ben appears over Simon’s shoulder.

Simon turns to Ben with an admonishing look. “You. Why isn’t he in your acting program?” He claps hand on a bewildered Louis’ shoulder.

Ben stammers,“W-well he _was_. We just—we didn’t think he’d amount—”

“He’s talented, isn’t he?”

“I can see that, yes.” Ben’s voice is small, eyeing Louis with a trace of regret. “But even if we wanted to, he can’t be re-admitted into the program. It’s too late. He’s graduating this year and this term is almost over. He’d have to start from the beginning—”

Simon stops Ben. “ _I see._ ” He turns to Louis. “To me, if you have natural talent, you don’t need a piece of paper to show me proof. Tell you what, if you work hard and practice, and you find yourself wanting to indulge in acting, then come see me after you graduate. I think I can find a spot for you in my company.”

Louis chokes out a noise of approval before Simon leaves him.

Professor Call-me-Ben catches Louis’ gaze. At first his features are sharp, but slowly he softens.“You heard him,” he says quietly. "Work hard."

When Louis’ left alone, he’s finally able to let out the breath that he was holding. Collapsing onto his knees, he stifles an excited squeal, his incredulous laughter filling the auditorium.

The air is humming, and something great is coming.

-

_“I, Harry, now bestow this birthday crown to the wonderful, magnificent, the very handsome—”_

_“Harry, please!”_

_“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry finishes with a flourish, gingerly placing his poorly constructed flower crown on Louis’ head (his talent in crafts has obviously lapsed)._

_“Thank you,” Louis softly chuckles, but Harry doesn’t respond._

_His fingers still linger in Louis’ hair, before he delicately tucks a loose strand behind his ear. Louis’ breathing becomes shallow as Harry’s fingers trace down to barely graze his cheek, eyes skirting up and down Louis._

_Snow is falling around the pair of them, yet Louis feels warm right here. He’s so still, unsure of what to do under Harry’s touch._

_They’re friends. That’s what Harry says, at least._

_Finally, Harry lets his hand drop._

_Louis’ cheeks burn where Harry’s fingers once touched._

_“Happy Birthday, Louis,” Harry murmurs._

_Louis musters a small smile. “I’ll see you next time.”_

_“You know where to find me.”_

“Louis! LOUIS!”

Liam’s voice rings in his ear, jolting Louis from his thoughts.

Louis vigorously shakes the memory of him and Harry, energizing himself after their long night at the hospital.

It’s Christmas evening, and as per tradition (which Liam urged them to start their first year), they’re meant to be spending their night serving holiday dinner to the patients and their family members of the hospital. Oh, and then there’s Niall, who willingly volunteers himself to dress up as Santa, delivering donation gifts to the pediatric wing.

Louis’ frozen in a waiting room chair, his Santa hat hangs limply from his head, while a roll of paper towels rests in his hands.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Niall jabs, his cushioned belly jiggling as he laughs.

 _“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream...”_ Zayn sings in amusement as he passes by, balancing a stack of presents in his arm.

Louis shoots them death glares, while Liam rips the roll of paper towels from his grasp.

“I needed this thirty minutes ago!” Liam cries, sprinting after Zayn.

“Is that how much time has passed?” Louis says sheepishly to Niall. He had meant to sit for just five minutes, but whatever.

“We’re about to make rounds, mate,” Niall exclaims giddly, holding up a sack of presents. “It’s our favorite part!”

“I’ll be there in a second,” Louis says, wiggling his fingers. They’re sore from serving food to hundreds of people. “I’m gonna get a cup of coffee, I think.”

Niall shrugs before disappearing around the corner, the jingling sound of the bells on his costume fade away.

Louis rubs at his tired eyes. Shit, he needs to hype up for the kids.

When he opens his eyes, a woman is sat next to him, sniffling as she clutches a present close to her heart. Louis' gaze cautiously sweep around the the waiting room. It seems like it’s just Louis and this woman alone in the room.

Surely she has a family?

He hesitantly reaches out towards the woman, but freezes midway. Is this how you’re supposed to comfort strangers? Is this even appropriate?

To hell with it. It’s Christmas.

“Miss?” Louis quietly says, laying a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

_No, Louis. Clearly, she is not all right, you idiot._

She wipes at her eyes, and when she meets Louis’ sympathetic gaze, her eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh! You’re the one serving food in the cafeteria, aren’t you? Did you boys cook that yourself?”

Louis shakes his head. “Oh, no. I’m a terrible cook. Burn everything I touch. I’m merely a server, hairnet and all.”

“Well,” she swallows thickly, obviously still occupied with whatever she is dealing with, “thank you for that. It’s very kind of you to do on a holiday.”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s really nothing. It’s Christmas. Everyone deserves a Christmas dinner.” He reaches out to squeeze her hand. “ _And_...to be happy. Listen, miss, I know we just met, but I hope everything’s okay.”

She stares at Louis, a distant smile stretching across her face.

The woman is beautiful but dimming, Louis inspects. Her smile looks practiced, as if it's not something she does regularly. It’s heartbreaking, really.

“Hospitals,” she pauses, drawing a tremored breath, “are shit.”

“I know,” Louis says solemnly, remembering the times Liam would meet up with them after volunteering, disengaged by what he had witnessed that particular day.

Her smile falters, and she tears her gaze away from Louis.

“It’s just.” Her voice comes in shakily. “It’s my baby boy. It’s just not fair. He should be spending Christmas with his _family_." She choked back a sob. "Not...not here.”

Louis has to avert his gaze, a lump forming in his throat. The waiting room is desolate. Most inhabitants are probably spending Christmas in the lobby with Liam’s crew, while others are stuck in their room. Suddenly, images of the ill children he had visited earlier today flash in his mind.

He can’t imagine being a parent to a sickly child. It has to be a terrifying weight to carry.

The present that she holds trembles in her hands. “This is his Christmas present. Supposed to be at least.”

“And what’d you get him?” Louis quietly asks.

“A kazoo,” she says dryly.

Silence passes between Louis and the woman. _Such a childish present,_ Louis fondly muses, _a kazoo_.

The woman lets out a loud laugh before smacking a hand to her mouth. She looks at Louis horrified, as if surprised by her own laughter.

Louis leans forward, suddenly concerned, until she drops her hand, throwing her head back in amusement.

“My—son—wanted—a kazoo,” she says in between laughter. “A kazoo! He’s so strange!”

Louis’ tense posture dissolves, and all at once, he finds himself chuckling. The woman leans into Louis, and together, their laughter echoes throughout the empty room.

A kazoo _is_ fucking weird.

Louis is sure that soon a nurse will poke their head in, ready to admit the both of them into one of these vacant rooms.

Finally, their laughter dies down, and the pair wipe at their tear filled eyes.

“I just miss my son,” she murmurs. Her weary eyes meet Louis', so he takes her hand and holds it.

“I’ll be your son for Christmas,” Louis says nonchalantly. “Although, I’d be much bigger than your son, I assume.”

The woman shakes her head with a chuckle, before squeezing Louis’ hand. “You’re a kind, kind boy…”

“Louis.”

“Louis,” she repeats. “I like that. Thank you, Louis.”

Suddenly, they hear the pounding of feet in the distance. Louis stands alert, sharing a mutual look of confusion with the woman.

“Louis!” A body barrels into him, and Louis pushes the familiar body away. He would recognize that cologne anywhere.

It’s Zayn.

“What’re you still doing here!” Zayn pants. “Niall’s got himself stuck in the revolving doors again!”

He clutches his stomach, roaring with laughter. “Hurry! Before the fire department frees him!”

Louis apologetically turns to the woman. “I have to…”

“I know,” she nods. She places a hand to her heart. “Thank you for your company, Louis.”

“No. Thank you...” his voice trails off in question.

“Anne. Call me Anne.”

“Thank you, Anne.” Louis bends down to place a quick peck on Anne’s cheek. “Everything will work out, I promise.”

-

Louis' never really understood love.

There’s the love that you have for your family and for your friends, but then there’s the love every human being waits for. The happy ending. The love that you share with the person you’re destined to be with.

 _How does that love differ_ , Louis wonders. _Is it different?_

***

“I wish I could speak tree,” Harry says, as he carves their names into their oak tree. “So I can apologize for the pain we’re causing it.”

“I would describe this as art,” Louis says from behind, hooking his chin onto Harry’s shoulder.

“Our names? Art?”

“Wasn’t talking about the carving,” Louis hums.“I was talking about you.”

He smugly backs away from a sputtering Harry, pumping a fist. “Five points to Tommo!”

Jolting out of his reverie, Harry fondly shakes a finger at Louis. “Smoother than butter, you are.”

-

And what’s so special about this love, anyway?

Maybe Louis is the rare type that won't settle. Maybe he’s meant to live on his own, doing theatre for the rest of his life.

Or, maybe there’s not enough love for Louis.

“Hey,” Liam says, breaking Louis from his daze by poking him with a mop. “I thought you’re supposed to be helping me clean the floor. C’mon, so I can get out of here quicker.”

They’re in the middle of an almost empty waiting room, a bucket between them, and a mop in each of their hands. Sometimes, Louis is generous.

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles, turning his attention back to mopping the floor.

“Something on your mind?” Liam asks, his eyes still trained on his task. He’s good at multitasking; Louis isn’t.

Louis sighs, plopping down into a nearby chair.

“Talk to me,” he whines.

“About?”

“Love.”

Liam quirks an eyebrow. “Love? You want to talk about love?”

“It’s on my mind,” Louis shrugs lamely. “Have you ever been... _in love_?”

Liam chuckles nervously. “Kind of a personal question there, Louis.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Fine. Well, let’s try this. When I say love, what do you think of? Like, what does it mean to you?”

Liam halts, resting his chin on the top of his mop as he ponders the question.

“Love,” Liam begins, “is the end game. When I think about love, I think about all that I have gone through to have it as my own. It’s a special, beautiful thing that every person deserves. I think love, Louis, is _something worth waiting for.”_

***

“Look, Harry!” Louis cries, spinning on his toes in their field. “I’m you!”

He puffs out his cheeks, widens his eyes, and sticks out his tongue. With arms extended like the wings of an airplane, Louis skips through the grass, making airplane noises with his mouth.

“Weeeeeee!” He squeals, zooming around an unamused Harry. “I’m Harry! I have curly hair and talk to animals!”

“I did not look like that when I was little!” Harry calls after him. He looks at Louis uneasily. “Did I?”

Louis skids to a stop in front of Harry.

“Yes, you did. You were a cute baby frog,” he pants, while Harry fights to keep down his growing smile. _"Ribbit."_

Before Louis can point and laugh at him, Harry dives forward, tumbling onto the ground and taking Louis with him.

“Help!” Louis screams as he wrestles under Harry’s grasp. “I’m being attacked by a giant amphibian! Help!”

After a bout of flailing limbs, Louis finds himself pinned under Harry, his hands gripping Louis’ arms to the grassy floor.

Louis, motionless under his weight, looks up at Harry with wide eyes. The distance between them is barely measurable. Harry is frozen, hovering over Louis. Somehow, Louis’ free hand lifts to meet Harry’s face. His fingers lightly graze Harry’s cheek, then up to his brow, swoops back down to shape his eyes and down to the tip of his nose, and _just_ as his fingers reach the top of Harry’s lips, his hand drops.

They shiver.

“Am I dreaming?” The words tumble out of Louis’ mouth quickly, and Louis doesn’t care how silly it sounds.

Harry smiles sadly. “You’re asleep. Definitely asleep.”

-

“Fuck, Leo dying always gets to meh,” Niall says, weepy voice muffled behind his pillow.

Niall and Louis are sat on their tattered couch, finishing their second romance movie of the day.

 _The football game was over and Titanic was the only thing that was on!_ That’s what the duo will say if anyone was to walk in on them. Then they’ll chug more beer and pretend that it never happened. That's their rehearsed plan, anyway.

“It’s so sad,” Louis whimpers along side him. “Why’d he have to die, Niall?”

“Louis, the ice in my cup is reminding me of the iceberg, and the iceberg is the cause of Leo’s death,” Niall frantically cries, staring into his solo cup with an utterly horrified expression. _“Get it away from me!”_

Louis ignores Niall. “If this movie is supposed to teach me about love, then it's taught me that I don’t want it!”

Louis gasps when Niall aggressively launches his pillow from across the couch, hitting Louis right in the gut.

“Take that back!”

“What?” Louis says indignantly. He raises his hands defensively. “Love is sad!”

Niall crawls over to Louis, the stench of alcohol on his breath matches his own. “No!” He wags a finger at Louis. “Love is _happy!”_

“No it’s—”

“Yes _it is_ , Louis!” Niall says, flailing his arms in the air. “Yeah, this movie ends in a pile of tragic shit, but hey, that’s only to remind us of the happy times, yeah? It makes us feel for them because they were once happy and in love, and that’s what matters, right? It's better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all or something like that!”

“I guess,” Louis mumbles.

“Tommo, my man, love is fucking awesome,” Niall hoots. He gestures to himself. “I’m in love everyday! I love you and Liam and Zayn and I love my guitar! And I love this day and I’ll love tomorrow! That’s love, Louis! It’s a necessity!”

“Really?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Niall hiccups before stumbling onto the floor, dissolving into a sobbing drunk mess. “Don’t-you-forget-it,” he says in between hiccups. _“Love makes you complete!”_

***

It’s a quiet day for the both of them.

Except for the short greeting he offered Louis upon his arrival, Harry has not uttered a word.

Louis can tell that something is bothering Harry. The sky is grayer, and their usually lively field is listless, as if reflecting their mood.

He wants to fix this. But right now Harry, whose eyes are shut as they both sit against the oak tree, seems too fragile.

Maybe Harry heard something again.

Sometimes, Harry will tell him of his time spent alone in Louis’ dreams, the muffled voices he would hear.

Unable to sit through the silence, Louis lightly nudges Harry.

“Harry?”

He opens an eye.

“Is everything alright?” Louis continues.

Harry straightens, ready to speak, but after a moment, he slumps again. “I dunno.” He looks at Louis with a perplexed look in his eye. “I’m not sure why I’m feeling like shit, but I do. I guess it’s being alone for a long time. Thinking about where I belong. Knowing that I don’t have a home.”

 _“Haz..._ can I do anything to help?”

Harry’s lips turn upward at the sound of his given nickname.

He takes Louis’ hand

“I’ll be fine now. Let’s just sit.”

So they do. And after a moment, Louis turns to Harry and says, “We can make this place our home.”

-

Zayn squeals when Louis barges into his room unannounced, clumsily covering the screen of his laptop.

“Louis!” He cries. “What the hell!”

“Your door was unlocked,” Louis shrugs. A smile creeps onto his face as he inspects the reddened cheeks of his friend. “Whatcha watching there, Zaynie?”

Zayn stammers. “N-nothing. Get out. Or I’ll—”

Louis swats Zayn’s hands away before he can finish his threat, uncovering the screen.

A young Heath Ledger dances across the high school bleachers—an iconic scene, but an odd choice for Zayn.

 _“10 Things I Hate About You,”_ Louis says in a sing-song voice.

“Embarrassing, I know,” Zayn grumbles, letting his head fall onto his hands.

Louis pats his friend comfortingly. “Zayn, out of all the movies you could’ve been watching on your laptop, I’m glad it’s just a rom-com.” He winks at Zayn.

Zayn face twists. “That’s disgusting.”

“Exactly,” Louis states, carefully sitting on Zayn’s bed, as to not mess up the organized disorder. “Now, is there a specific reason as to why you’ve holed yourself up in your room the past two days?”

Liam and Niall had sent Louis over to investigate. Their raven-haired friend hasn’t appeared in days, and Niall is suspecting foul play.

Zayn falls silent, his gaze retreating back to Heath Ledger.

“Am I supposed to guess?” Louis prods.

Zayn relents with a sigh. “Fine,” he moans. “I’m fucked, Louis.”

Louis quirks an eyebrow, gesturing for Zayn to continue.

He takes a deep breath. “We’re graduating soon and my life’s a mess.”

“No, it’s not,” Louis scolds.

Zayn shakes his head, as if Louis doesn’t understand. And yeah, Louis doesn’t. But that’s because Louis isn’t one to intervene with Zayn’s problems, not unless he wants Zayn to block him out even more. With Zayn, giving him space and time usually leads to him opening up easily. 

But if Zayn’s going to hole himself up, claiming that his life is in shambles, then maybe it’s about time Louis pokes around.

“Zayn,” he begins hesitantly. “Is this about Liam?”

Silence.

“What if I never see him again, Louis?”

The eyes that meet Louis show defeat, and no, Louis won’t have that.

“That’s bullshit,” Louis says. “We’re best friends. We’ll always keep in touch, make time for each other and all that.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “But Liam’s going to move on. He’s going to be busy becoming a proper doctor, and he won’t have time for us—for me. And besides, it won’t be difficult for him to let go. We’re not the same anymore, him and I.”

“And why’s that?”

His eyes darken, plunging into an unwanted memory. “I always thought that Liam would always be there, you know? To mess around with, to hold, to kiss, to just be there as a friend. And then the night of Ed’s gig, we snuck off to fool around and then he told me he wanted us to be real—he told me that he loved me.”

Zayn casts his gaze downward, a shameful look spreads throughout his expression. “And I couldn’t say it back to him. _And now,_ things aren't the same between us, and I don’t think it ever will be.”

Louis leans back, the pieces finally starting to click.

“Zayn.” He gets onto the floor, kneeling in front of his seemingly helpless friend. “Why couldn’t you just say it back to him? You can fix this!”

“Because it was hard!” Zayn shoots back. “I didn’t know if I loved him, and if I did, I didn’t think I was ready for it! That’s...that’s scary, Louis.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why I’m so fucked up,” Zayn groans. “It’s like my feelings are a bunch of blurred lines, and even when they start to clear, there’s nothing I can do. We’ve been through too much for it to be fixed.”

Louis can help, he truly believes he can. He can start with this:

“Zayn,” Louis says firmly, gripping Zayn’s knees. _“Do you love Liam?”_

Zayn’s gaze becomes far off, like there's a montage of him and Liam playing right before his eyes.

“I dunno. I mean, before all this happened, after Liam and I would spend hours together, there would _always_ be a moment where I’d go into my room and realize, holy shit, I miss him. Even after all the time we had spent together.” Louis notices the way Zayn goes inward, his voice reminiscent as a shy smile creeps along his face. “And now, when I look at him, it’s like, I feel broken. Because he’s perfect and _we_ were perfect, and I don’t know if I’ll ever have that again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be lucky enough to get to tell him that every day.”

He pauses, before his eyes comically widen, a look of _‘Oh shit’_ unfurling in his expression. “This is love,” he cries, jumping to his feet, and simultaneously knocking Louis onto his ass. “This is love— _and it’s worth fighting for!”_

***

Louis patiently waits as Harry comes up with an answer to Louis’ “purely-for-his-philosophy-class” question.

Once again, they’re laying on their backs, eyes trained on the rolling clouds while a songbird chirps brightly in the background.

“Love?” Harry says in a thoughtful voice. He dips his head back, eyes drifting shut before letting out a pleased sigh. “I feel it.”

Louis has never really understood love. But now, as he stares adoringly at a sleeping Harry, Louis believes that he’s starting to understand.

-

“Um, did Zayn just send you a text to meet him at the fountain?” Niall announces from behind Louis, a tour group in tow.

Zayn had texted him a: _911!!! Come to the fountain!!!_ So of course, Louis bolted from his design class expecting to have to actually call an ambulance. 

Louis offers a short hello to the group before turning to Niall. “Yeah, I left class early cause I thought it was an emergency, but I haven’t seen him.”

What if he's gone wild? What if Zayn finally lost it?

Niall shrugs, before turning back to his group. “Well, uh, _this_ is the courtyard, and _here’s_ a fountain. You can sit if you’d like. I don’t care.”

Once again, they picked the wrong day.

_“Lads.”_

Louis and Niall whirl around to see Zayn. He's dressed sharp, wearing a perfectly fitted black tuxedo and a bowtie under the sweltering weather. Also, his hair is slicked perfectly in place except for a single strand that falls gracefully onto his forehead. Zayn looks so perfect, Louis and Niall have to do a double take just to make sure he isn’t just a glowing vision. But he’s real, and somewhere in Heaven, an angel is weeping.

“Zayn...what’s going on?” Louis stutters, still struck by the beauty in front of him. _That damn strand._  

Niall clutches his heart. “Louis, catch me, I’m falling.”

Louis doesn’t catch him.

“What’s with the get up then?” Niall asks, scrambling onto his feet.

Zayn adjusts his bowtie. “What do you think?”

Louis stills when he only counts the three of them. Oh no. “ _Zaaaaaayn,_ where’s Liam?”

Zayn points to the coffee shop window behind their regular patio table, and when Louis squints, he can make out Liam at the register.

“He’s not coming,” Zayn informs. “I didn’t text him.”

Like a domino effect, Louis starts to register the other tuxedo cladded men scattered throughout the courtyard, recognizing them as members of Zayn’s A capella group. However, instead of wearing a black tie like Zayn, they don Leeds’ green bow ties. Obviously, they’re here for Zayn, their moronic captain.

Realization begins to strike Louis. Horrified, he grabs Zayn.

 _“Are you shitting me, Zayn?”_ He cries, shaking his lovestruck friend.

Niall contrasts Louis when the situation finally dawns on him. Jumping up and down, he grabs Zayn, spinning him around. “Oi, you’re going to woo Liam! That’s my man! Yes, Zayn!”

Louis pulls Zayn back to him, hissing in his ear. “If you think you can doo wop your way into Liam’s heart, think again. This isn’t a fucking episode of Glee.”

Zayn squirms away from Louis’ hold, unchanged. “I’m fighting, Louis.”

“You’re _singing_.”

“Close enough.” His eyes widen when his gaze returns to their patio table, watching as Liam emerges from the coffee shop door. “Holy shit, he’s out. Go!” He pushes Niall and Louis out of the way, clearing the front of the fountain for himself.

Louis watches as a confused Liam searches for the rest of his friends, a carrier of coffee cups in his hands. When he spots Zayn at the fountain, he shakes away the surprised look in his eyes.

 _“What the hell are you doing over there?”_ Liam shouts across the courtyard, walking towards the fountain.

Before Liam can come even remotely close to Zayn, Zayn snaps his fingers, and suddenly, a collection of voices ring out the opening notes of Franki Valli’s [_Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcJm1pOswfM)in perfect harmony.

Liam drops his carrier, coffee pooling around his feet.

Meanwhile, the AcaSquad briskly walk to meet with Zayn in the middle, snapping their fingers as they vocally orchestrate the opening instrumentals.

When the singing men form a practiced pyramid behind Zayn, the token beatboxer counts him in, and nervously, Zayn opens his mouth, his silk voice attracting every student in the courtyard.

 _“You’re just too good to be true,”_ he sings to Liam, extending his hand out towards him. _“Can’t take my eyes off of youuuuuu.”_

Despite Louis’ previous disdain towards Zayn’s methods, Louis can’t help the ear splitting grin forming on his face. Next to him, Niall bounces on his feet, joyfully mouthing the words to the famous song.

 _“You’d be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much.”_ Zayn hugs himself tightly, and Liam bursts into laughter. _“At long last, love has arrived and I thank god I’m alive. You’re just too good to be true...”_ He points to Liam again, before placing his hand on his heart. _“Can’t take my eyes off of you...”_

Zayn’s voice is actual perfection, probably melting the ears off of every single person in his forming audience, but none as much as Liam. Liam’s hand covers his gaping mouth, crinkling eyes watering on the spot.   

Finally, the vocals pick up, and out of nowhere Zayn and his groupies start rhythmically sidestepping in unison.

 _“I love you baby and if it's quite all right_  
_I need you baby to warm a lonely night!_  
_I love you baby, trust in me when I say!”_

For the first time in his A capella career, Zayn is committedly doing the dance moves. Executing perfected side steps, three step turns, and swinging arms, Zayn is literally on fire and it’s all for Liam. His eyes haven’t even left the object of his affections. They never will, Louis thinks.

“This is so fucking amazing!” Niall exclaims next to him. “I want in!”

Before Louis can pull him back, Niall jumps into the pyramid, dragging Louis with him. Niall's sidesteps are offbeat, and his voice is slightly off-key, but he’s having the time of his life. Louis _has_ to join. Together, they stick out like a sore thumb, Niall in his bright work uniform and Louis in his joggers. But whatever, it’s for fucking Zayn and Liam.

Louis would sway to the beat to save any of their lives.

"THIS HAPPENS _EVERYDAY!"_ Niall joyfully screams to his tour group (which is a fucking lie)."CHOOSE LEEDS!" 

Eventually, the song slows and Zayn pulls apart from the Acasquad, meeting Liam so that they stand toe to toe.

He conjures a rose from the inside of his coat, and gingerly hands it to Liam as he closes the song. " _Oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay and let me love you. Oh baby, let me love you…”_

The crowd, with Louis, wait with bated breath as Zayn and Liam exchange hushed words. Whatever Zayn says, it causes Liam to cast his flower into the air and throw his arms around Zayn.

Their lips crash into each other and the whole courtyard erupts into applause.

Yet, as happy as he is for his two best friends, Louis feels a twinge of jealousy tugging at his heart.

Zayn and Liam get to have each other, in their dreams _and_ in the real world.

And Louis can’t have that--not with the person he truly wants to be with. Every moment he shares with Harry is ephemeral, painfully fleeting. Louis can’t live like that for the rest of his life, even if he has the instinctive feeling that they’re written in the stars.

The thing is, Louis doesn’t want Harry as his escape; he wants him as his reality.

The latter is not plausible, Louis realizes, a sinking feeling gathering in his chest.

“Man!” Niall bumps into him, wiping his eyes on Louis’ sleeve. “Isn’t it beautiful? Our two best friends. Together. Makes me want to confess my love to someone.”

With Harry on his mind, Louis brushes past Niall, seeking solitude from the celebration.

***

Louis is falling.

In every sense.

Limbs flailing in every direction, he’s falling into a bottomless pit until a familiar grassy setting appears below him. Screams piercing the air, he painfully lands onto the hard ground, his eyes meeting a pair of shoes.

Spitting out a chunk of dirt, Louis looks up to see Harry, beaming so brightly at Louis, he begins to feel sick.

And oh yeah, Louis is _also_ falling in love.

“Graceful landing,” Harry smirks, pulling Louis onto his feet, taking it upon himself to brush dirt off of Louis’ body.

Louis slides away from Harry, chuckling nervously.

Harry doesn't take notice to Louis' distance. Instead, he turns on his heels, beckoning Louis to follow.

They're standing under their oak tree, an uncomfortable silence stretching between them. Maybe Louis should say something, _be normal._ But he knows if he did, he might just make things worse.

Being with Harry is so easy, that if Louis were to just be inches from him, he'd sooner forget his troubles and allow himself to carry on with this charade.

Harry breaks the silence, pointing to spot where their names are carved.

"That's us," he says proudly.

Louis fights to ignore the fluttering of his heart, the way Harry traces their names with his hand.

"What have you done today?" Louis asks, breaking his gaze and choosing to focus on the way the leaves rustle in the wind.

"Been thinking," Harry says quietly. "Although, there's not much to think about with a broken memory."

"So what do you think about?" Louis questions, imagining a bored Harry, pondering the meaning of life.

"You."

Louis’ back falls against the tree trunk, and when he turns, he see Harry staring directly at him, his brow set with anticipation.

No. This is just friendly. It has to be. During his walk home, Louis promised himself he would do anything to stifle this all consuming love he has for Harry.

_You._

_Change the subject,_ he thinks. _Run the other direction._  

"Well, Zayn serenaded Liam today!" Louis exclaims with feigned enthusiasm, words inaudible under the buzzing in his ears. "They’re together now, I think!"

Harry's hands have trailed down his own torso, clutching the hem of his shirt in a death grip. His smile is small, yet faltering. "I guess Zayn is stealing my thunder, then."

"What do you mean?"

The world around him becomes hazy, and he feels like someone is drilling a hole into his skull.

Though taller, Harry appears small under Louis' perturbed stare. "I’m not really good with words, Lou, but I really need to get this off my chest."

 _Please don’t,_ Louis thinks. _Please don’t do this._

Louis’s voice wanes. “Harry…”

Before Louis can twist away, a hand grabs at his, and suddenly, Louis is very, very close to Harry.

Harry’s eyes are a deep, deep green, and when Louis looks at him, it’s like plunging into a refreshing pool. And it’s then, as Louis looks into Harry’s eyes, when Louis realizes how so very gone he is for the boy.

This isn’t a dream anymore; this is a nightmare.

It’s physically and emotionally demanding for him to just stand there, internally containing his desire to close the gap in between them. He can’t give in. He can’t carry out these feelings.

The longer the drop, the harder the fall.

“Louis, I’m trying to tell you that I,” Harry pauses, his eyes teeming with apprehension. He lets out a shaky breath, before continuing. “I love you.”

Louis’ breathing stops, the ground starts to spin, and he starts to feel heavy.

This is a dream. _Harry is a dream._

“Harry…” Louis chokes out, tears prickling the corner of his eyes.

Harry’s so hopeful, caressing Louis’ hand in his.

And Louis’ about to ruin everything.

“You’re not,” Louis says breathlessly. “You’re not real.”

Louis’ hand falls limply, and its like Harry’s frozen in time, gaping at Louis. He takes several steps away from Louis, absolutely horrified.

The distance is agonizing.

All at once, Louis’ vision starts to cloud, and everything around him seems so far away.

All Louis can hear is the sound of his own sobs, and the only thing he can see--the last thing he'll ever see--is the heartbreakingly pained expression on Harry’s face slowly fading away.

-

_“These violent delights have violent ends.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, kudos, or rec it ralph. 
> 
> Also say [hi](http://www.tommothetrain.tumblr.com) on tumblr. 
> 
> Thanks so much. :)


	3. Part Three

**Part 3**

_“In these bodies we will live,_   
_in these bodies we will die,_   
_and where you invest your love,_   
_you invest your life._   
_Awake my soul.”_

[-](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBk3ynRbtsw)

“Well, Mr.Tomlinson, here is your filled out prescription,” Dr.Soma, their campus doctor, announces as he steps into the office. “I’ve written that you only need to take two a night.”

He hands Louis the form, a suspecting look under his brow.

“And this is powerful, yeah? Like, I’ll get a deep sleep and everything?”

“Well, yes. It’s certainly very powerful for the situation you’ve described. It’s the best I can give you.”

It’s worth it.

“And I won’t have my nightmares while taking it?” Louis asks.

Dr.Soma stares at Louis with a dubious expression, and continues. “It could vary. Most sleep medications delay or reduce the REM cycle, so its a possibility. Mr. Tomlinson, are you---”

“Thanks, doc,” Louis interjects, hopping from the counter. “That’s all I needed to know.”

-

_“Hello Louis Tomlinson, it’s me, Simon Cowell. I’m calling you to schedule a callback time for West Side Story. I really think you have something. Please call me back.”_

-

It’s lunchtime and Louis hardly feels like eating.

“Can you serenade me for my birthday, Zayn?” Niall croons, batting his eyelashes overdramatically.

Zayn sticks his tongue out at Niall before pressing miraculously closer to Liam, and it’s as if he’s staring at Liam through rose-colored contacts.

“Sorry, Ni,” he says, focused on Liam. “That’s reserved for special people only.”

Niall openly coos at them from behind his sandwich. “You’re forgiven.”

Louis bitterly watches through droopy eyelids as Liam stops to press a chaste kiss onto Zayn’s lips.

Without much thought, Louis slides out of his chair, quickly gathering his belongings.

“Louis?”

“I’ve gotta go.”

-

_“Hey, Louis. It’s Liam, obviously. You sorta disappeared on us...again. Anyway, you wanna catch a movie with the lads? You can sit in between Zayn and I if you want. Get back to me.”_

-

He got assigned stage manager for his final production at Leeds.

He’s not excited about it.

“Louis, that’s your third cup of coffee today,” Katie, his assigned assistant stage manager, says as she greets Louis at the stage door.

“Gotta stay awake,” Louis says with a wry smile.

Katie shrugs, before digging into her pocket. “Anyway, I have a note for you. I think you know who it’s from. It’s the sixth call I’ve received from him.”

Louis shakes his head, gently pushing Katie’s hand away. “No, thank you. And don’t bother about taking anymore calls from him. Just tell him I’m not interested.”

Katie double takes. “I don’t understand. Isn’t this your dream?”

Louis sighs, brushing past his professor. “No, it’s not.”

His dream was someone else.

-

_“Mate, for fuck’s sake, where’ve you been? Whatever. Calling to tell you that Liam’s in class, and I’m currently watching Niall cry over spilled ice cream. Wish you were here to see this. Talk to me for once.”_

-

It’s like he’s practically begging for Louis to come back.

He has to jolt himself awake every time.

Oh well. One hour of sleep is better than none.

-

_“Louis? It’s Simon. I’m sorry to hear that you’re no longer interested in pursuing acting. However, I would like to inform you that my casting will not be made final until the end of June. Until then, this is the last time that I will be calling you. Best wishes.”_

_-_

“I’m so glad that we’re all sat together for lunch today,” Zayn says, the hint of sarcasm does not go unnoticed by Louis.

Louis had no choice. He ran into Niall on the way back to their dorm; he was basically dragged to their table.

Liam jabs Zayn’s side before turning to Louis. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine,” he mumbles.

Everything is annoying him right now. The sound of Liam’s voice is grating to his ears, Zayn’s judgemental gaze makes Louis want to throttle his neck, and Niall’s obliviousness as he hammers on about his day jabs at Louis’ skull.

“It was the third time my ice cream had fallen in the past thirty minutes, I was fucking irritated, okay?” Niall’s voice explodes in Louis’ ears. He turns to Louis. “They were irritated tears, Tommo.”

Louis lets out a disengaged hum, picking at his bowl of lettuce. The reaction causes Niall to sink into his seat, scrutinizing Louis.

He does his best to avoid Niall’s stare. Instead, his eyes drift onto his reflection in the coffee shop’s window.

What he sees surprises him. Louis’ hair is disheveled and his mouth is creased in a perpetual frown. Meanwhile, his eyes are wrinkled at the corners against his paled skin, his pupils showing disconnect. Under his eyes are deep, dark circles and moving down are Louis’ sunken cheeks.

The skin clinging onto his bones and the beating of his heart is the only thing that makes Louis appear alive.

Other than that, Louis feels lifeless, like he’s being permanently followed by a cloud of dementors.

“Can you please stop telling this story, Z?” Liam fondly chides, hooking his arm through Zayn’s.

Zayn laughs. “Why? It’s absolute gold.”

“Not when I wasn’t there to witness it,” Liam replies.

Zayn smirks. “Very true.” He presses a kiss to Liam’s cheek.

Louis drops his fork with a loud clank.

He’s going to be sick.

“Louis?”

“Do you have to do that at the table?” Louis’ voice comes out harsh. He didn’t mean for it to sound that way, but he can’t take it back.

“What?” Zayn scoffs. “Kiss my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Louis snaps. “Some people are eating.”

“I don’t mind,” Niall offers. He retreats when Louis shoots him a glare.

“Well, I do,” Louis says roughly.

“What is wrong with you?” Zayn demands. “No, seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re absent for days, and then you come back as some emotional vampire. Seriously, all you’re doing is sitting there, and yet, you still manage to suck the joy out of everything.”

“Zayn.”

“No, Liam,” Zayn says, sparing a quick glance to his boyfriend. “Louis has no right to talk to us like that.”

“Fine,” Louis sneers, scrambling to his feet.

Liam frowns. “Are you really leaving us again?”

“I think that’s what your boyfriend wants,” Louis says condescendingly, gathering his belongings.

“No!” Niall protests. “ _Louis_ , stay.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “He wouldn’t.”

Louis stifles a guttural cry, slamming back into his seat, seething. “Then what do you want me to do, Zayn? I can’t fix myself for you. I’m sorry!”

“Why?” Zayn fires back. “Just fucking why, Louis?”

Louis throws his head back with a groan. “Why does it even matter? Look, we’re graduating in a month. And you know what that means? That means that you and your precious Liam will go on with your successful careers, hopelessly in love. And fucking Niall will be off traveling the world. And me? I’m going to be doing god knows what--alone.”

_“Mate…”_

“We’re going our separate ways!” Louis cries. “So you guys might as well just let me adjust to it now.”

The following silence cues Louis to leave. Wordlessly, he slides out of his chair and turns to leave.

A gentle hand pulls him back.

“Louis,” Niall says, and Louis spares him a look. “What about Harry?”

Louis snaps, roughly shrugging Niall away.

“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t fucking do that to me, Niall.”

Louis spins on his heel, this time, he doesn’t look back.

And this time, no one follows.

-

_“Tommo….it’s Niall. Call me, please.”_

-

This is the way sleep should be.

Dark and peaceful.

This kind of sleep doesn’t last for Louis. He starts to see a meadow, the familiar movement of greenery dancing in a gentle breeze, and it’s almost like home.

_No. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up._

Twisting in his sheets, the image starts to slowly fade away until he finally jerks himself awake.

Louis lays motionless in bed, staring at the outline of his ceiling fan, a dull throbbing in his skull.

He hasn’t seen Harry in three weeks, and yet, the world spins madly on.

[-](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzM69btqtYI)

Louis slams the front door shut. The noise sends a searing white pain through his head. His body reacts like that these days—too often.

Rubbing at his eyes, Louis mechanically drops his bags onto the floor.

Their dorm is cold and barely lived in, like a ruin to what once was. His feet pad against the creaky wood floors as he walks to his room.

He stands frozen in his doorway, his eyes meeting a familiar blue.

There’s Niall, sitting at the edge of Louis’ bed, clutching a bottle of sleeping pills in his hands. When he notices Louis’ arrival, he doesn’t jump onto his feet like he normally would, instead, he merely acknowledges him with a hurt expression.

“What’s this, Louis?”

“Have you been going through my stuff?” Louis swipes at the bottle, avoiding Niall’s gaze. If they were to make eye contact, Louis would surely crumble.

“Oops,” Niall says, hardly empathetic.

He stands so that he’s looking directly at Louis, scanning him up and down. Niall shudders taking in Louis’ appearance, even reaching out to graze the bags under Louis’ eyes.

“But it doesn’t look like it’s working,” Niall mumbles.

Louis shrugs, remaining detached. “It does. Until I wake myself up.”

“Which is often, I guess?”

Louis nods.

Niall lets out a disappointed sigh. “Louis, _why?_ That’s not healthy.”

Louis moves around Niall, evasively straightening random objects in his room. He wouldn’t push Niall out of his room, but hopefully he can take the message.

Niall doesn’t make an attempt to admonish Louis’ disconnect, busying himself in deep contemplation.

He gasps, his expression flickering with a developed thought. Niall jumps over the bed, landing where Louis stands, and pulls them both down to sit on the cushioned mattress.

“Louis,” Niall says, sternly. “Why are you stopping yourself from dreaming? Why aren’t you seeing Harry anymore?”

Niall absorbs Louis’ silence. Surely, this won’t last. He has to leave sometime.

“Holy shit,” Niall exclaims. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

_Fuck._

“Niall, no,” Louis moans. “Just. Shit. Let me be alone, alright?”

Niall ignores him, twisting his whole body so that he’s facing Louis. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Louis! So you love Harry--a lot. So what?”

Louis blinks back at Niall, utterly stunned.

 _“So what?”_ Louis says with a mirthless chuckle. “So what! Niall, you don’t get it. Liam was right from the start. Harry and I--we’re not healthy. He was just a figment of my imagination. I’m just fucking sick in the head.”

Niall shakes his head. “Louis, you’re not sick, okay? You’re—”

Louis cuts in. “Enough, Niall! Stop trying to fucking fix me,” he snaps. “All I need is time to phase him out. I’m fine.”

Niall grimaces. “I like you better when Harry’s around.”

“Yes, you’ve told me this before,” Louis says curtly.

Niall sits with a deflated posture, gaze directed to his lap.

Finally, the stillness is broken. He turns to Louis and sighs. “Look, Tommo. I never really knew what god to believe in when I was younger. I didn’t know who was in charge and I didn’t know why certain things happened in life. But I do know—no matter who's up there—that Harry was created for you.”

Louis’ tension dissolves, lips quivering as waves of kept emotions come crashing down. “Niall…”

“Listen to me,” Niall interjects, pressing himself close to Louis. “You were given someone who loves you and that you love back. And yeah, he’s in your head right now, but shit, Louis. What if he’s out there? Look, I know I sound crazy but…”

“It’s crazy,” Louis speedily replies. “It really is.”

Niall is quick to cut in. “But our world’s always been crazy. For fuck’s sake, Zayn orchestrated a musical proposal to Liam, you’ve been cut from the acting program and then managed to grab the attention of a famous director! Louis, our life has been a spiral of unexpected events and feelings, and fuck you for thinking that Harry is any different.”

“I just,” Louis begins meekly. “I just can’t do it. I don’t have the strength to go through with it.”

An ounce of anger flashes across Niall’s face. “ _No_. You’re fucking Tommo and you’re my best friend. And you know what else you are? _Fearless_. The Louis I know wouldn’t turn his back on the one thing that could make him happy. He wouldn’t ruin something good for him out of petty fear.”

_So I don’t care if you don’t think this relationship isn’t real, because it’s fucking real to me._

Fuck, why did he let go?

“Do you think I can find him?” Louis says, voice hoarse.

Niall subtly brightens. “Mate, I would travel the world looking for Harry if that would make you feel even remotely better.”

Louis sucks in a breath. “I love him alot.” The words fall easily from his lips. “His heart is my heart and his home is my home, and dammit, we belong together.”

When he squeezes his eyes shut, he sees Harry’s deep green eyes and a smile reserved especially for him. He sees their oak tree rustling under the warm sun, its eternal carvings gleaming under the light, and beneath the tree he imagines a young Harry and Louis, curled into each other in adoring silence.

Louis misses him.

“Good, I was thinking you were starting to crush on me.”

Louis laughs, and the lilt of it sounds foreign to both of their ears. “Tell the lads I’m sorry. I was a dickhead.”

“A tired dickhead,” Niall amends.

He’s always loved Niall, his best fucking friend, but now, his affections for him grow deeper. Who else would fight for their friendship—for his own sanity—even after Louis’ angst ridden tirade? Only Niall.

When Louis doesn’t respond, Niall resides to crawling over him, stretching out across his bed, and leaving Louis to sit in wallowing silence.

“Niall?”

“Yeah?” Niall hums, drumming his fingers against his stomach.

Louis turns to him, voice brimming with muted panic. “I think I’ve hurt Harry too much. I don’t know where to start.”

Niall doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out a hand, gently lowering Louis onto his back. He nuzzles into Louis’ side and throws a blanket over the pair of them.

“You can start by going to sleep.”

***

It’s storming in his dream.

The sky is a threatening black. The dusty backdrop flashes with white lights, followed by a deafening crack.

Something is horribly wrong.

Louis prays to whatever god that this isn’t his fault.

“Harry!” Louis calls out helplessly, his voice inaudible under the stormy winds’ high-pitched howling. He squints his eyes through the blinding raindrops, sloshing his feet through the wet grounds. “Harry!”

Finally, he sees him, a dark figure overlooking the edge of the meadow, shoulders slumped and head dipped down.

Louis’ heart skips a beat.

“Harry!” He fumbles his way through the mucky ground, panting heavily as he traverses through the murky rain that pelts him. He stops a good feet away from Harry, desperately wanting to run towards him, but Harry’s tense posture tells him he shouldn’t. _“Harry?”_

Harry whirls around, and when he registers the fact that Louis is standing before him, his face instantly tightens. Water drips off of Harry’s limp hair, falling onto his collar bones, while his body violently shakes.

“Harry, you’re shaking. You’re cold,” Louis says softly, reaching a concerned hand towards him.  

“No, I’m _angry,”_ Harry refutes. The indignation in his voice knocks Louis back.

Louis takes a step forward. “Harry, I’m so—”

“Don’t,” Harry spits, “Don’t even think about coming close to me!”  

Louis looks around, incredulously taking in the deafening winds and how they spiral all around Louis. The torrent of rain, the world splitting thunder and lightning, and the menacing thick clouds of darkness that swirl over their heads. His gaze sweeps back to Harry, genuinely stricken with horror.

It’s Harry.

God, what has Louis done to him?

“How...how are you doing this?” He stammers.

Harry remains rigid, brow knitted with scorn. “This isn’t just your world, Louis. It was _ours_. We shared it.”

The space between them is filled with fraught silence, overpowering, even over the violent storm around them.

"Please, Haz. Let let me talk to you—let me fix this.” Harry flinches when Louis attempts to draw himself closer.

Over the rain and over the wind, Harry’s anguished voice stretches all the way to Louis. “You left me!” Harry deflates, breathing heavily. “I could’ve lived with you not feeling the same way I feel about you. But you fucking left me, Louis, because I didn’t matter—because I wasn’t real.”

“You _do_ matter to me! Harry, I was so wrong. I was a coward.”

Harry is ruthless under Louis’ agonized stare. He needs Harry to understand.

Louis’ hands makes their way to his own heart, clutching it, afraid that if he doesn’t, his heart would sooner jump away from him, breaking into a million little pieces.

Harry's voice topples over Louis'. "To leave me, _alone._ With _nothing._ I felt so...I couldn't believe that _you_ would do that. Just,  _what am I to you?_ "

 _"Everything!"_ Louis cries. "Harry, you're _everything!"_

“You’re so real to me Harry and that’s what scares me,” Louis continues, voice a mere whimper.

“You’re making this hard,” Harry crumples, shaking his head. “Maybe you should leave.”

“I’m not going to leave you again!” Louis shouts.

And when Louis ignores Harry’s wishes, a thunderous boom shakes the ground, and the wind surges around him like a tornado, pushing Louis back.

Harry’s eyes are shut, desperately avoiding Louis’ eyes, but Louis won’t let him go. He’s not done fighting, and he has a feeling that Harry doesn’t want him to be either.

Louis plunges forward, his legs fighting to break through the turbulent wind. He lets out a cry with each step he takes, progressing closer and closer to Harry. The noise of the storm is like a high-pitched whistle in his ear, and the rain pelting his face burns him. But it’s okay, because he knows that every step is a walk towards love. He’d struggle through bitter tundras just to get to Harry.

Finally, he grabs hold of Harry, gripping tightly to his upper arms. And suddenly, here, close to Harry, it’s like he’s in the eye of the storm.

He barely flinches under Louis’ touch, but his eyes are still squeezed shut with bated breath.

Harry can’t see Louis, can’t see the determination and adoration in his eyes. It reminds him of when they were younger. So Louis has to hope that Harry can hear the truth in the breaks of his voice, the all consuming warmth he has for him.

“I was worried about having you, Harry. I was petrified of holding you like this, only to be ripped away from me every morning,” Louis begins, inflicting each word with fervency. “So when I got the chance to be with you, I ran like the idiot I am...but I’m not scared anymore. _I’m ready.”_

“You hurt me, Lou,” Harry breathes out, still refusing to open his eyes

“I know, love. I know,” Louis says, delicately caressing the skin underneath his hold. “And I’m so sorry. But you need to know how much you mean to me, okay?”

For a microsecond, Louis can see a ghost of a smile on Harry’s lips.

Louis sucks in a shaky breath. “You are everything to me, Haz. To me, you’re perfect in every single way and that makes me want to be better, to be deserving of you--even after all these years. And that’s special, okay? _We’re_ fucking special. Like, I’m okay with a tragic ending, because atleast I would know that we tried, and that we were happy. Together and loved. No matter what happens, it’ll be worth it.”

His fingers skirt down Harry’s arm so that he can take hold of his trembling hands.

“Harry,” Louis says, swallowing thickly, “you know very well my lack of confidence. But I can tell you--with the utmost confidence--that I _need_ you in my life. I want this--you and I. And, jesus. Fuck.” He laughs nervously. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m in love with you. Now and lifetimes after.”

The world around them is violent and unending, but here, with Harry, it’s like everything is going to be alright.

Harry’s long lashes flutter as he exhales a trembling sigh. His fingers, no longer limp in Louis’ hands, are laced with his, and somehow, he’s gravitated closer to Louis.

Barely an inch separates them.

“Do you believe me?”

Harry’s eyes slowly open, revealing a shine of fresh tears. His iridescent eyes causes Louis’ heart to halt and his skin to warm.

He’s in love with him.

A white smile breaks across Harry’s face and the storm begins to settle.

He lets go of Louis’ hands, and he misses Harry’s touch for a second, until he tenderly places his hands on Louis’ cheeks, framing his face. He can feel Harry’s breath on his.

“I always have, didn’t I?”

Harry surges forward, catching Louis’ laughter in his lips, pressing his body against Louis’. Louis eyes widen before he allows them to shut, taking in the smooth lips moving against his. It’s gentle at first, like everything Louis imagined it to be and everything he never knew he needed. Warm, soft, and enrapturing  

Harry’s fingers trail up, carding through Louis’ hair. He sighs against Harry’s mouth and giggles when Harry shushes him, fiercely capturing his lips yet again.

This was worth waiting for, Louis thinks. As they move perfectly together, Louis believes that he’s undeniably found his half, and in this moment, they’re unified.

Finally, Louis pulls apart, and yet, every sense of Harry still lingers on him. He doesn’t know why, but he starts to quietly laugh, and of course, Harry joins.

Their foreheads gently press together, their breathless laughter wanes, and Louis is left under Harry’s burning stare.

They both want more—after everything—they _deserve_ more.

“Maybe we should lie down,” Louis croaks.

And Harry bursts into uproarious laughter.

***

Harry’s steady breathing on his chest soothes Louis. Their limbs are tangled together, and they're wrapped in each others warmth.

Harry has dozed off, but Louis fights to stay awake in fear of slipping back into reality.

As they lay together, Louis believes that they’re like stars in the night sky, slowly drifting closer and closer, and with every slow inch, the brighter they glow.

But still, there’s no denying that Harry is the goddamn brightest.

-

When Louis wakes up his heart is lighter, and even when he reaches out to feel the empty spot next to his, the feeling is less painful.

Louis is loved and in love.

Nothing really matters at this point.

Louis registers the fact that Niall is missing, but replacing Niall is a tray of bought breakfast and tea. Accompanying Niall’s kindness is a note, donning his best friend’s poor handwriting:

_Louis’ To Do List_

  1. _Sleep_
  2. _Kiss Harry_
  3. _Gather the boys_
  4. _Call Simon_
  5. _Thank Niall_



-

“Niall, I don’t care what you say, you have to wear something under your graduation gown,” Liam sighs as he takes his regular seat at their table.

Niall follows, staring at his packaged gown deprecatingly. “You think I can petition the dress code in less than a week?”

“Niall.”

“It’s hot mate!”

Louis meets Zayn’s amused eyes, hiding their mutual laughter behind their mugs of tea.

Directly after Niall’s intervention, Louis sprinted to Zayn and Liam’s hall, banging on each of their doors (of course, both of them came out of Liam’s).

He groveled for their forgiveness as curious heads peeked out of neighboring doors. Fortunately, they had forgiven him easily, wrapping him in a group hug.

Just as easily, their friendship continued on normally.

So yeah, he fucking loves his friends.

However, as he sits through lunch, he can’t help but zone out of their conversation. They’re talking about their impending graduation and summer plans (“You need money to travel, Niall! You need a job!”), but Louis is focused on keeping his food down.

He’s waiting for something.

Something big.

And if he doesn’t find out soon, well then there goes his summer.

“...So Louis and I will get our own flat and I’ll score some gigs over the summer! Problem solved,” Niall chimes, yanking Louis out of his reverie.

He never agreed to moving in with Niall, but the deal was inevitable.

Zayn chuckles. “I don’t think everyone’s on board. Yeah, Louis?”

Louis’ phone buzzes, followed by a specifically chosen ringtone of triumphant trumpets. _Holy shit._ This could be it. He frantically searches for his phone, smacking his hands all over his body.

“It’s in front of you, Louis.”

Louis whitens, grabbing the device. “One moment.”

 _Text from Simon Cowell_ , it reads.

Open it, Louis thinks to himself as his thumb hovers over the message. _1, 2, 3…._ click.

_Louis—we thoroughly enjoyed your callback last week. Your energy was infectious and your presence captivating. I would like to offer you the part of Tony. Come by my office to fill out official paperwork and to pick up a cutting of the show. I’m quite relieved that you changed your mind. I’ll text you as more information comes. Best wishes, Simon._

Louis slowly lowers the phone, his insides absolutely buzzing.

“Si just text me…” Louis manages to get out.

“On a texting basis with _Si_ , are we?” Liam laughs.

Louis meets the expectant stares of his best friends, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

“I got the part.”

Niall, Liam, and Zayn sit stunned, until Niall rises from his seat, smothering Louis in hugs and kisses while the  others holler in victory.

“MY BEST FRIEND IS GONNA BE PROPER FAMOUS!” He cries as Zayn and Liam applaud next to him.

“Reserve us front row seats, mate,” Zayn says, clapping Louis on the back.

Louis extends his arm out for Zayn and Liam to see. “Look. Shit, I’m shaking.”

“This is incredible,” Liam replies, letting out a puff of air in disbelief. He pulls Niall off of Louis. “This is like, the start of something new!”

Niall beams, shaking Louis’ shoulders. “Everything’s coming up, Louis!”

He’s brimming with unadulterated joy, but somewhere deep within his sudden celebration, there’s a little tug of sadness.

The real world is practically perfect now, but it’s not enough.

“You know what needs to happen next right?” Louis mumbles, resting his head in his palm.

Zayn, Liam, and Niall share a look before crooning in unison. _“Harryyy….”_

Louis doesn’t even try to repress the blush spiking his cheeks.

“How is the search going?” Liam asks sadly.

Louis groans. “Horrible. I’ve called all the Harrys in the local phonebook—nothing. Although, I accidently got myself a date for Friday night. I had to politely decline.”

Louis knows this fate thing entails nothing from him, that it’s the universe’s decision to decide when and where, but Louis _has_ to kick Fate’s butt into working twice as hard—he’s tired of waiting.

“And I looked on Facebook,” Niall adds. “But there’s no Harry that looks like how you described. No surprise there, though. Why would someone as fucking cool as Harry use facebook?”

“Sounds like the type of bloke who’d instagram his cup of tea with a black and white filter,” Zayn smirks. “Heavy on the contrast.”

“Nice. Should check there next.”

“We need a last name! That’s what we need.”

Louis moans, interjecting Zayn, Niall, and Liam mid-conversation. “You guys! How will I ever find him?”

“There’s so many Harry’s in the world, Louis,” Liam replies. “It’s bound to take ages.”

“But what if he’s nowhere near us? What if he’s in a different universe? Do I have to build a spaceship? _I don’t know how to build a spaceship!”_ Louis cries, dropping his head onto the hard table with a whimper.

“Louis,” Zayn places a gentle hand on his back. “Come off it, mate. It’ll work out.”

“But why?” Louis says despairingly. “Why is this happening to us?”

Zayn drums his fingers against the table, the gears in his head turning. “You know, they say that you can’t dream of somebody you’ve never seen before. The faces you see in your dreams are only made up of people you’ve seen, even people that you’ve randomly met on the streets.”

“That’s true,” Niall cuts in. “There was this girl that I sat behind in the back of the bus once, but I could only see the back of her head. Yet, one night she appeared in my dreams. Glorious pony tail and all. God, I loved dreaming about her.” He smacks Louis’ chest. “ _So that’s it!_ You saw Harry for a split second, and ta-da! He’s stuck in your dreams!”

Louis rolls his eyes. “That’s different, Ni. I didn’t just dream of Harry’s image, I literally watched him as he grew up. And besides that, the first time I met him, I knew that I had never seen him before. I would remember seeing someone like Harry.”

“Your _body_ didn’t see him,” Zayn amends.

“Huh?”

“Maybe you’ve never met him in your waking life, Louis. But maybe you did in another lifetime? Maybe that’s why he’s in your dreams. Because your soul knows who Harry is and wants to show you that someday you’re going to meet him, and that your life is going to change.”

Zayn continues. “And maybe Harry recognizing you is just his soul catching up to yours. Right now, you guys are just dancing around each other. I think the time is near. I really do. You’re going to meet him and everything’s going to make sense.”

“That’s beautiful, Zayn,” Liam says dreamily, taking Zayn’s hand in his.

Zayn shrugs. “You don’t have to believe it. It’s just a thought.”

“But I like it,” Louis says, quietly. He shares a look with Niall, who is as every bit as enraptured by the idea as the rest of them. “I just have to be patient.”

Louis envisions himself and Harry through a span of lifetimes, either fighting tooth and nail to get to each other, or spending their days lovingly together. He imagines lifetimes where Harry and Louis don’t exist, as if the universe is speaking to them: _Not now, maybe in the next life time._

Well, this is their chance.

And here they are, like stars drifting closer together, so close yet so far.

His phone buzzes.

_Simon Cowell:_

_Please prepare the following song for your first vocal rehearsal:_   
_Something’s Coming._

***

“Harry, how many times have I told you! You’re not allowed to cry in my absence or else I won’t be there to fix it!” Louis fondly admonishes, pulling Harry into his chest.

He had appeared next to Harry, who was sat with dangling legs over the cliff. And upon his arrival, Louis had quickly taken notice to Harry’s quiet sniffles.

Harry swats Louis away before twisting his body in embarrassment to wipe at his eyes. “I’m sorry, but when you’re gone, all I can do is think.”

“About?” Louis says, concerned, before brushing a piece of hair out of Harry’s eyes.

“Just frustrated,” Harry frowns. “It sucks when you leave, you know? It makes me mad. I feel like it’s my fault. _Like,_ I can’t be there for you the way Niall or Zayn or Liam gets to. I’m just stuck.”

“Hey,” Louis says soothingly, cradling Harry’s face in his hands. “Look at me.” Harry eyes Louis under his lashes, a dejected gleam in his stare. “I love you, okay? And you know what that’s like for me? Loving you—being here with you—it’s like I never I want to wake up.”

Harry chuckles softly under Louis’ hold. “Well that sucks for you cause I really want to wake up.”

Louis sticks out his tongue before pressing his lips onto Harry’s forehead. “Always the jokester.”

He lets his hand drop back onto his lap, turning his attention back to the vibrant sky in front of them. The sun is setting, and its ruby red hues blaze against the wisps of oranges and pinks. Next to him, Harry’s breathing evens as he lapses into a wave of content silence.

“Wanna hear something Zayn told us the other day? I think you should hear it,” Louis suggests, nudging Harry lightly.

“Sure,” Harry nods, scooting closer to Louis, leaning towards him as he speaks.

Louis recounts all that Zayn had shared with him at lunch, albeit, not as eloquently. But even explaining the idea causes Louis’ heart to thrum feverishly.

Harry sits back, wide eyed after Louis finishes. “I like Zayn and I liked hearing that.”

“Makes you feel better doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry grins, and the genuine smile gratifies Louis. “It’s like, the idea that somewhere you and I are waiting to meet--that we’re meant to connect--it makes you more hopeful.”

“My other half,” Louis states proudly.

Harry preens under Louis’ gaze, until he breaks eye contact, twisting away to hastily search the ground around him.

“Harry, what the hell are you doing?”

When Harry turns back towards Louis, he’s holding out the smallest of flowers. A daisy, he thinks.

“For you,” he exclaims. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Five points to Harry?”

“You’re perfect,” Louis laughs, taking the flower from Harry’s grasp.

“I’m a smitten kitten,” Harry sighs.

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Ten point deduction for calling yourself a smitten kitten.”

Harry makes a face, turning back to the sky, the sun a mere sliver.

“How long has it been?” He wonders. “I hope you’re not waking up soon.”

“Me either,” says Louis glumly.

They do nothing but sit, relishing eachother’s company before one of them is to disappear, a weighted despondency between them.

This is what it’s like being with Harry.

It’s like a dagger has been lodged into his chest, and the more time he spends with Harry, the deeper the dagger twists inside him.

Louis wishes someone would do him the favor of extracting the dagger out--to set them both free.

Free from their trapped world.

Harry’s low, meek voice breaks the stillness. “I just want to be real for you.”

Louis’ lips tug into sad smile as he takes Harry’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. “You are, Haz.” Sick of being fraught with subtle despair, he wills himself to perk up. “Change of topic. Have I told you? Niall’s traveling after the summer!”

“No,” Harry replies, mustering a look of interest. “Where to?”

“Anywhere,” Louis shrugs. “If I hadn’t met Simon, I think I would be going along with him. I would want to see Fiji. Dunno why, but that’s where I want to be.”

“Fiji,” Harry says, disengaged. “Fun to say.”

Louis inwardly sighs. Dreams like these are always difficult to get through. Usually, it’s Harry that has to pull Louis out of a slump, but now, he supposes it’s his turn.

“What about _you?_ Pick anywhere in the world. Where do _you_ want to be?”

_“Next to you.”_

Louis’ throat goes dry looking at Harry’s smile, a smile laced with sorrow. Louis has to tear his gaze away, instead, focusing his attention on the bottomless drop below them.

Maybe he shouldn’t have, he relents. His knees are feeling numb all of a sudden.

“You ever wonder what’s down there?” Louis asks, blinking through the murky abyss below him as he dangles his feet.

Harry purses his lips. “I try not to look down most of the time.” He dips his head and cringes. “Dammit, Lou.”

“Just saying…” Suddenly, a measurable courage swells through Louis’ core. The dizziness in his mind stills and his body no longer feels numb. “You know, Zayn once told me that you can’t die in your dreams.”

“That’s not true,” Harry frowns. “Have you ever had a nightmare of someone chasing you? That’s terrifying shit.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “But think about it. You always wake up before you can die.”

“Oh....that’s true,” Harry says bewildered.

Louis fully twists his body to look directly into Harry eyes, gripping both of his hands tightly. “Harry, what if we jumped?”

“Louis!” Harry gasps in disbelief, eyes wide as they flicker in between Louis and the drop. “We’ll die!”

Louis shoots Harry a pointed look.

 _“Or we’ll wake up,”_ Harry says, realization dawning on him. “Louis, you don’t think—I mean—”

“We’ll never know if we don’t try,” Louis shrugs, sparing another glance below him.

 _You won’t die,_ he tells himself, _you can’t die._

And Harry. If this is what can get Harry to wake up somewhere, then dammit, he’d climb the highest mountain just to drop off it.

“Okay,” Harry says repeatedly, mostly for his own benefit. “Okay, let’s do it!”

He scrambles to his feet, pulling Louis up with him. Harry looks over the edge once more, before turning back to Louis. “Nevermind, let’s sit back down.”

Louis wrestles with Harry, who does his best to tug them both onto the ground, squealing every time Louis manages to grab onto him.

“Harry!” Louis says, clutching Harry still. “Nothing bad can happen. We’re doing this together.”

“You promise?” Harry says, fighting to steady his shaking voice.

Louis nods, squeezing Harry’s hands. “And if anything, I’ll see you again when I go back to sleep.”

Harry smiles. “Yeah. You’re right.” His hands wrap around the small of Louis’ back. “And if I’m not back, you’ll find me, right? Promise we’ll find each other.”

Louis’ eyes sparkle as he fondly wraps himself around the boy in front of him. “Oh, Harry. That’s the whole fucking point.”

Harry laughs, pulling away from Louis. “I love you, now and after.”

Together, they turn towards the edge with clasped hands.

“Wait!” Harry cries. He spins Louis, grabs his face and smacks his lips onto his, both melting into the kiss.

“One for the road,” Harry pants as he pulls apart. His hands shake in Louis’ as he leans slightly over the edge. “I’m nervous, Lou.”

“Don’t be,” Louis says. After all, this could be it. This could fix everything. _“All it takes is a leap of faith.”_

They take a bend to their knees, and instead of looking down below, they reserve their last image for each other.

“Ready?”

“Might as well.”

Together, they silently count:

_1, 2, 3..._

-

Louis bolts up in bed, gulping for air.

Staring back at him is his hanging graduation gown, freshly pressed and hanging on his closet door. It’s meaning is lost on Louis.

“Oh my god,” he repeats over and over. “Oh my god! _Oh my god!”_

He wonders if Harry is doing the same in his own bed—wherever he is.

Louis’ door swings wide open with a bang.

“We fucking made it! It’s graduation day!” Niall hollers, dancing into the room with his black satin gown on, a green stole wrapped around his neck.

When Niall notices Louis’ petrified expression, he freezes.

“Tommo, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you dressed?”

Louis sputters. “Niall-I-I don’t think I can—”

“You can’t keep this from him, Liam!” Zayn interjects, storming into Louis’ room, a manilla folder tucked under his arm.

Liam soon follows, arms reaching towards Zayn, a troubled look in his eyes. “Not now, Zayn! Please!”

_What the hell is going on?_

Zayn’s gown hangs messily on him from his bent out entrance; meanwhile, Liam attempts to keep his cool. Smoothing his green stole and his multitude of honor cords, Liam’s eyes nervously dart in between Zayn and Louis.

Again, _what the hell is going on?_

Zayn turns to Liam apologetically, before dropping the manilla folder onto Louis’ lap with a resounding thud.

“Seriously, why aren’t you dressed?” Niall questions.

Zayn moves in front of Niall. “Read it.”

Louis sits straighter, nervously looking down at the folder as his hands clumsily flip it open.

His breath hitches, and Niall who is reading over him, lets out a stunned gasp.

This is a medical report.

 _Patient: Harry Styles, Age 20._   
_Case ID: a021994 RM: B17_

And accompanying the bold writing is a picture of Harry Styles— _his_ Harry.

He’s smiling in the picture, wide and dimpled, while his green orb-like eyes look directly into the camera.

Louis’ fingers grazes the small picture. He feels another photo stuck to the back, when Louis pulls at it, he’s faced with the image of a deeply scratched up Harry, eyes shut and mouth limp, dried blood covering him.

“Is it him?” Zayn asks apprehensively.

Louis nods, his hand meeting his mouth, stopping himself from crying out. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel, his vision is too blurry to understand what’s on the paper.

“Liam, what—what is this?” Louis breathes out.

“I found him two days ago,” Liam say slowly. “I had to help the nurses move his body around, to prevent bed sores and all that. I saw his name on the clipboard and when I saw his face...I dunno. The way you had described him and the person I saw clicked. So yesterday, I stole whatever I could on file and made a copy of it.”

“But what’s wrong with him, Liam?” Louis says exasperatedly, staring horrified at the photo.

“He’s comatose,” Liam begins with a shudder. “Has been since September. His previous records show that he hardly suffered any serious damage to his body. No internal bleeding, ruptured kidney—nothing. He just fell into a coma, but it says that he’s been showing consistent brain activity, which must be a good thing.”

“What happened to him?” Louis chokes, imagining an unconscious Harry, family surrounding in agonizing wait.

“Car accident. There was a stray dog on the road and he swerved into a lamp post.” Liam mumbles, bending down to thumb the pages of the file. “Here’s the accident report,” he says, tapping the paper. “It’s quoted that he was on his way to a small concert. And look at the date. September 29th.”

“That was the date of Ed’ gig!” Niall exclaims.

“And look at the intersection where the accident happened.”

“Dave Street and Manor Road,” Niall continues. “That’s right by the pub. Harry was meant to come to Ed’s gig.”

Louis speaks quietly. “I was supposed to be there. We were going to meet.”

“Talk about fate,” Niall whistles.

Louis shakes his head. “This is insane. Harry is literally a couple miles away from me. Is he awake? Can I visit him?”

Liam shakes his head with edged silence.

“Liam,” Zayn mutters under his breath. “You’re missing something. Tell him”

“Tell me what?”

Liam sighs. Defeated, he reaches into the inside of his gown, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “It’s part of a form. Giving legal consent to disconnect Harry from life support.”

Louis rips the paper from Liam’s hand. His heart dropping from his chest, rage and grief swelling inside him.”What?”

“His vitals are dimming. Louis, it’s been so long, and nothing has changed.” His voice is contrite as he continues. “I overheard his family talking with a team of doctors. They understand that they can’t keep Harry like this.” Liam gulps. “They were deciding as of yesterday afternoon.”

Louis can’t find the words to speak.

“I wanted to wait till after graduation to tell you this.”

Harry’s life could be seconds from being signed away and Liam was going to _wait_ to tell him?

Louis leaps from his bed, roughly gathering Liam’s gown in his hands, pulling him close.

“You weren’t going to fucking tell me?” Louis seethes, shaking a petrified Liam. “Harry could die and you weren’t going to tell me!”

“Hey!” Zayn shouts, shoving himself in between the two, while Niall pulls Louis off of Liam. “Liam risked his career stealing confidential files. Everything that he’s done was for you! He was thinking about _you!_ You should be grateful!”

“Grateful that the love of my life is dying?”

“Do not take that out on Liam!” Zayn snaps, jabbing a finger into Louis’ chest with each word.

The tension in Louis’ body slowly dissipates.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters with his head hung low.

Niall relinquishes his hold.

“It’s okay,” Liam says, voice dry. “If it was Zayn I would of—”

Louis cuts in. “Give me your keys.”

“Are you joking?”

He’s not sure what he’s saying, but he knows what he needs to do.

“You’re the only one with a car, Liam,” Louis says hurriedly. “Give me your keys.”

“Mate, what do you think you’re doing?” Zayn asks incredulously.

Louis throws his hands in the air. “I’m going to stop them! They need to know everything!”

Niall’s hands on him are like ice against his burning skin. “Louis, maybe you should wait. Like Liam said.”

“This isn’t something you wait for!” Louis cries. “This is life or death!”

Liam sighs, steering Louis away from the door. “Louis, you need to get dressed. Your family has come to see you, okay? You can walk across the stage and go.”

Louis shakes his head violently. “No. No. I need to go now.”

“Louis,” Liam tugs at Louis, but Louis roughly shrugs him off.

“Why don’t you guys understand!” Louis cries, “I need to see him! Receiving a piece of paper is _nothing_ compared to this.” All eyes are on him. “This is everything you guys have taught me. This is _my_ love! This is _Harry_. _He_ is what makes me complete! It’s _him_ who’s worth waiting for and it’s _him_ who’s worth fighting for!”

He looks directly at Zayn when he finishes.

Zayn’s bottom lip quiver. “Give him the keys, Liam,” he mumbles under his breath. “Do it.”

Without delay, Liam reaches into his pocket, and dangles his keys in front of Louis.

“That was our ride to graduation,” Liam whimpers, as he drops his keys onto Louis’ open palm.

“We’ll take the bus,” Niall amends. He gestures wildly to a frozen Louis.  “What are you waiting for? Go!”

Louis gives a wordless thanks to each of them, turning on his heels.

“Louis! Wait!”

He looks over his shoulder to see Zayn reaching out to him. “Are you sure you want to intervene? Don’t you want to wait and see what’s meant to happen?”

Louis twists his face with a new determination, clutching Liam’s keys in his hands.

“Can't. I promised Harry.”

-

It takes about forty-five minutes to get to the hospital.

Louis makes it there in about half the time.

He storms into the hospital, probably appearing as a deranged lunatic.

“Where’s the ICU?” He screams to everyone he passes.  _“Coma patients. Where the hell do coma patients go?"_

Finally, someone directs him towards a set of escalators, and Louis takes off sprinting. He hopes he’s not too late, he’s begging to every power in the universe. Fate has loved him so far, right? Fate has given him Harry, his friends, and theatre--would he be so lucky now?

The doors to the ICU swing open as Louis barrels in, the sound of hushed whispers, crying, and mechanic beeping fill the waiting room. _B17._ He repeats. _B17._

He hurriedly walks past the group of doting family members and straight past the front desk.

_I love you, now and after._

“Sir! You can’t go there without a badge. Sir!”

Ignoring the noises of protest surrounding him, Louis pushes through the next set of doors. He lets the overhead signs direct him where he needs to go.

 _Hall B,_ he reads.

His heartbeat accelerates as he counts every door he past.

_15, 16, 17._

Without careful consideration, Louis charges through the door, ready to be reunited with Harry— _in person._  Ten years. More than ten years later, and now he is moments away from seeing his love. It is going to feel so good. To hold him, to kiss him, to love him, to—

_No._

The room is empty.

The bed is made.

Any traces of a previous occupant are gone, and Louis is left dumbstruck. His breathing quickens, and his stomach starts to flip nervously.

“Excuse me?”

Louis excitedly turns to see a young nurse, staring at Louis with warranted apprehension.

“Harry! Harry Styles!” Louis says in desperation. “Is he here?”

The woman’s face falls, her strict brow curving with sympathy. “I’m sorry, love. He’s gone.” _No._ “I wish I could—”

Louis pushes past the woman.

His head is suddenly searing with pain, the edges of his vision are a blinding white. His limbs have become heavy and his throat has become so dry, he can’t even feel the weight of his tongue. All around, voices blur past him and somehow he’s running— _sprinting_ —away.

Louis’ whole world is different—hollow.

And the dagger in his chest scorches him with pain as it digs itself irreversibly deeper and deeper.

How is he on his feet? How is he running?

 _I did this,_ Louis thinks as his feet pound against the tiled floor. He told Harry to jump.

He let Harry go.

Now fuck, Louis’ alone.

His garbled thoughts are muted by the deafening buzz reverberating in his skull as he finally reaches the main entrance. Throwing open the doors, he allows his knees to buckle. Stumbling under the blinding sun, he gulps for every ounce of air. Hot tears spill from his eyes, and it’s everything that he’s been holding in since this morning. 

How could he have let this happen? How could he have let someone _so_ beautiful, _so_ entrancing, and _so_ fulfilling into his life? He had let Harry—with his dimpled smile, his mesmerizing eyes, and his soothing voice—touch him, heal him, and fucking love him as fiercely as Louis loves him just so that he could be torn away from him! How could someone who brought so much life into Louis become suddenly life _less?_

His stomach heaves violently— _fuck, he’s going to be sick_ —and he braces himself against the brick wall.

Louis retches, a fucking painful experience on an empty stomach. _Stop crying!_ He internally moans, stepping over his own bile. _What did you expect?_

His throat burns, his sides ache, and the dagger twists and twists.

Louis bends over, his hands on his knees keep him from keeling over as his eyes sear with wetness.

“Louis!” A voice cries out. “What’s going on!”

A flash of blonde appears next to him, and instantly, Louis collapses into his arms, pulling the pair down onto the ground, knees scraping against the concrete.

“N-niall,” Louis hiccups, struggling to make words come out of his burning throat.

Zayn and Liam miraculously emerge from behind, stooping low to encircle Louis, who is trembling violently in Niall’s arms.

He doesn’t even register the fact his friends are here—skipping their graduation—for him.

“They let him g-go,” Louis cries. “Harry’s dead.”

The finality of those words send Louis spiraling yet again. Thrashing in Niall’s lap, he lets out a guttural sob, another flood of tears blinding his vision.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Liam says, voice thin. He scrambles onto his feet and sprints off, leaving Louis’ sight, and Zayn soon chases after him.

_“Liam! Wait!”_

Meanwhile, Nialls runs his fingers through Louis’ sweaty head, a puddle of Louis’ tears forming on his lap.

It hurts; to cry so hard and to love so fiercely.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god,” Louis sobs hysterically.

Niall attempts to shush him, his voice coming in a gentle, soothing tone, but even he quivers as he holds Louis, even his eyes glimmer with a mournful shine.

“I don’t want this, Niall,” he wails. “I d-don’t want this.”

Not much else passes through Louis’ mind as he lays weeping in Niall’s arm.

All he can think is:

_Not in this lifetime._

-

 _“I am alone._   
_The weight of love_   
_Has buoyed me up_   
_Till my head_   
_Knocks against the sky”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, kudos, or rec it ralph. 
> 
> Also say [hi](http://www.tommothetrain.tumblr.com) on tumblr. 
> 
> Thanks so much. :)


	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_“There’s a place for us_   
_A time and place for us_   
_Hold my hand and we’re halfway there_   
_Hold my hand and I’ll take you there_   
_Somehow, someday, somewhere.”_

-

A week has passed, and still, Louis does not dream.

He wakes up, dreading the day as he blinks away the morning sun filtering through his blinds.

His room in his and Niall’s just bought flat still reeks of brand new.

Boxes are scattered on the floor, unopened and untouched. He can’t bring himself to start unpacking, afraid that by doing so, his new life will begin.

And he’s just not sure if he’s ready to move on.

Breakfast is left on his side table yet again. And as tradition, the meal will become yesterday’s breakfast when it is left uneaten for Niall to clean the next morning.

“This is heartbreak,” Zayn had told him, tucking him in on his first night without Harry. “This means that it was real.”

He never dreams of Harry.

He no longer gets the chance to be blessed by his warm presence, not even with a memory of him.

But whenever Louis closes his eyes during the day, he sees him, smiling at him with glittery green eyes.

And when he touches his lips, sometimes, Louis can feel the ghost of their first kiss.

_“And if I’m not back, you’ll find me, right? Promise we’ll find each other?”_

What Louis would give just to be able to speak to him one last time, to apologize for letting him down.

“Please don’t look for any funeral plans,” he had told Liam. “I don’t want to see him like that.”

He reminds himself everyday that he has to remember the good, like Niall said. They ended in tragedy, but somehow he has to learn how to feel content in the end, because at least they had each other for the time they had together. To feel grateful because at least they had times when they were happy and in love.

A leap of faith—what a horribly pathetic and stupid idea.

Louis’ own light is fading, and he’d sooner die than watch himself slowly disintegrate.

A gentle knocking on his door yanks him from his usual morning thoughts.

Niall emerges, Zayn and Liam in tow.

“You awake?”

Louis hums, burrowing deeper into his blankets.

The bed dips where Niall, Zayn, and Liam sit, and Louis makes no effort to acknowledge them. It’s too early.

“Time to get up, don’t you think?” Niall suggests, lightly pulling the blankets away from Louis’ face.

Louis shakes his head at him with a deprecating stare.

“But Liam’s made plans for us,” Zayn says, hooking his arm through Liam’s, and the image makes him sick.

“What kind of plans?” Louis mumbles, voice muffled against his pillow.

“A road trip!” Niall chimes. “A _lads’_ roadtrip.”

No. His friends can’t really expect him to carry on and indulge in their bro-trip, can they? Louis can hardly tie his own shoes!

“I can’t,” Louis says, a deep frown setting on his face.

Liam sighs. “Louis, it’s been a week. You have to get out of the flat at least once.”

“Why do we have to do this?” Louis moans, “Why must this happen?”

“Well, for starters. You begin your official rehearsals in just two days, Niall starts regularly working, and Zayn and I are going off for a holiday. We won’t get to hang out like this for awhile,” Liam explains.

Louis blows a puff of air. They’d be back soon; Liam's going to have to do better than that.

“Look, we need you to be with us when we say goodbye. Just today. After that, we won’t bug you any longer,” Zayn adds. “We’ll even give you a key to our place if you want extra solitude from Niall.”

“No! Don’t do that!” Niall whines.

The idea sounds tempting.

Liam scoots closer to Louis, reaching out to place a warm hand on his own. “We know you’re grieving, Louis. But there’s gotta come a time where you choose to rise above it.”

“You’ve got to let us help you.”

There's a nagging feeling tugging deep within Louis, telling him that it’s too soon. Yet, as he falls under the gaze of his friends’ desperate stares, he feels that he needs to be better. After all, they have continually been there for him all year, dealing with the rise and falls of his life. 

God, the drop was so hard.

How could he ever rise from that?

“I don’t know how,” Louis whispers, utterly terrified.

“Come with us,” Niall says, pulling Louis up with a smile. “Start with that.”

-

The car ride varies from impenetrable silence to empty banter.

It took longer than they had all expected, getting Louis out of the house. Multiple times, he would change his mind, kicking his shoes off and locking himself back into his room.

The plight ended with Liam knocking down the door, and Zayn and Niall then dragging him out of bed, kicking and screaming into Liam’s car.

Now, Louis silently rests against the car window, vision trained on the passing sight outside. Meanwhile, Niall is spread next to Louis, switching from hanging in between Liam and Zayn in the front and aimlessly scrolling his phone.

The satin voice of one Franki Valli starts drifting softly through the car speakers.

_“You’re just too good to be true…”_

“Hey lads,” Niall says, peeking his head from over his phone. “Remember the time when Zayn assembled the AcaSquad so he could profess his love through hip swivels and vocal runs.”

Zayn laces his fingers with Liam, resting on the center console. He side eyes Liam with a look of profound adoration. “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

Liam simply laughs while effortlessly maneuvering his free hand on the steering wheel.

If he’s going to rise now, then he’s glad he’s doing it with the safety of his friends.

“My birthday is September 13th,” Niall coughs obnoxiously.

“Noted.”

They had been driving for more than an hour, the city life of Leeds transitioning to that of the country side.

Louis was hoping for the beach, but whatever. Louis silently enjoys the smooth roll of the tires against the graveled road.

“Are we there yet?” Niall asks, sparing Louis a concerned glance.

“Soon,” Liam hums. “Very soon.”

He turns into a smaller road, car shaking lightly over the textured road, passing a sign that reads: Holmes Chapel— _please drive slowly through the village._

“Holmes Chapel?” Louis scoffs. “What the hell is a Holmes Chapel?”

“I have a friend who grew up here. He told me there was this beautiful nature reserve that he used to explore when he was younger,” Liam answers patiently, twisting his head to inspect all the landmarks and signs. “I thought it’d be nice place for us to stop by. Maybe Zayn can sketch a few things.”

“Draw me like one of your french girls,” Niall jokes, now leaning over the center console, taking in the pleasant town.

Zayn lightly shoves Niall back onto his ass. “You wish.”

“Our last hurrah, and we’re prancing through flowers,” Louis grumbles, cheeks pressed against the car door.

“It’s supposed to be pretty!” Liam argues.

They turn into a winding road, the expanse of little buildings disappearing behind them. Higher and higher the road takes them, and a feeling of dread washes through Louis.

Maybe he shouldn’t have left his flat.

Finally, they cross a threshold, emerging through an archway of trees. They’re no longer driving on a rocky road, but rather a bed of grass with bumps and dips. Vibrant shades of green surround their car, leaving Louis in awe.

There’s not much else to take in, as they’re surrounded by rolling grass that tower in height. But finally, they reach a clearing.

And what he sees almost cause Louis to hurl.

This is their meadow.  _This is Harry and Louis’ meadow._

At least, it looks _exactly_ like it.

To the right is an expansive field of a variety of wildflowers and to the left, there’s a never ending grassland, inhabited by fluttering insects and sweeping birds.

And right in front of them is their oak tree, sturdy and strong, leaves dancing in the breeze. Moreover, he can see where the clearing ends, and where the cliff must be, where their foolish downfall took place.

A lump begins to form in his throat as his eyes dart from one familiar landmark to the next.

“Stop the car,” he says, fighting for breath.

“What?” Niall says in incredulity as Liam comes to a halting stop, the motion sliding him forward and back.

Louis stares at Niall, Liam, and Zayn through wounded eyes. “Why would you do this to me?”

Liam side eyes Zayn, confused. He whispers under his breath, “I didn’t know he’d react this way.”

“What wrong with him,” Zayn replies, ever so subtly.

 _“Is this some kind of joke to you?”_ Louis sobs, before throwing the car door open.

“Louis! Come back!”

Louis sprints off, his limbs fumbling towards the tree as he wipes his shirtsleeve under his leaky eyes.

He comes to a halt in front of the tree’s trunk. The surface is baren except for the natural erosion, no carvings are eternalized.

Harry and Louis were never here.

“No, no, no,” Louis utters repeatedly, his voice a mere whimper.

Louis runs the other direction, collapsing near the clearing’s edge, leaning over the cliff.

The drop isn’t far off, nor does it seem even remotely harmful. Instead, the foggy abyss that appeared to him in his dreams is replaced with a bed of more flowers. The drop would only cause baby scratches.

Louis stumbles back onto his feet, stifling a cry and running a shaky hand through his hair.

_What the fuck is this?_

This has to be a terrible, terrible dream.  A haunting of some sort.

Louis himself feels like a ghost in the one place that made him feel welcomed and safe.

And now it’s not even his.

He lets out an anguished cry.

This isn't home. 

_“Lou?”_

The voice, though low and sweet, violently yanks Louis out of internal spasm. He slowly turns, his gaze meeting eyes that are like a ghost to him.

Glittering green pools.

He shakes his head in disbelief and it’s no ghost.

He inspects the owner of the chilling eyes. Louis’ heart stops, and the world falls silent.

Louis takes in the deep stare of the boy, the scars on his pale skin, trailing down to sparkling white teeth, and dimpled cheeks. He takes in the way his hair falls past his ear in perfectly messy waves, and the way his t-shirt dips to reveal a collage of tattoos and a sharp collarbone.

Louis’ eyes travel up and down the length of the boy’s body, the familiarity of it overpowers him.

He repeats the process over and over until he has to repress a sob.

 _“I’m Harry,”_ he says, a hint of fear flashes in his eyes, as if Louis might have forgotten him. “Harry Styles.”

Louis swallow thickly, smoothing the dryness of his throat. “ _You_ found me.”

“Actually,” Harry chuckles softly, before beckoning to Liam’s car.“ _They_ found me.”

Over Harry’s shoulder, he can see the faint outline of his three best friends, staring wide-eyed at the scene before them.

Excited, Niall clambers onto Zayn's lap ( _"Niall, I swear to fucking god!"_ ), and ferociously rolls down the car window. He screams, “Liam wouldn’t take no for an answer! He was incredible!”

Liam smiles and shrugs. “I ran back into the ICU and figured out that he had woken up that morning completely healthy! A fucking phenomenon. Got moved to a different room and then sent back home the next day.”

“Took ages to get in contact with him,” Zayn shouts, pushing Niall out of the way. He adds with a wink, “But it turns out he was just as impatient. Been waiting to get off of his required bed rest to find you!”

Niall screeches as the windows begin to close on him. _“Now kiss each other on the mouth!_ ”

 _One,_ his friends are amazing.

And _two_ , this can’t fucking be.

He averts his attention back to Harry—holy shit, it’s _Harry_ —refusing to tear his gaze away, fearing that he might fade away.

Harry adorably bites his lip through the weighted silence, waiting anxiously for the next move. The space between them is charged.

And Louis thinks, _oh, fuck it_.

“Fuck it,” Harry mutters simultaneously.

They surge forward, running to meet in the middle.

Like stars colliding, they crash into each other, quickly closing the gap between their lips, and it’s like they’re one.

There’s no lapse from lost time. The way they press against each other, capturing one another with desperate kisses, it’s effortless. It’s like, he’s come to life, invigorated under Harry’s touch.

The line between reality and his dreams wash away, and he’s surprised to say that nothing is different. Except now, he’s absolutely rushing with adrenaline, because he gets to hold Harry, _like this_ , every day.

This is life now, and there’s so much to do, so much time.

They miraculously pull apart, their bodies still pressed together, bubbling with excitement.

Harry dissolves in his own thrill. He lets out a joyful yell, encircling his long arms around Louis, lifting him off the ground. Together, they laugh giddily as Harry spins them around.

Louis catches his breath as Harry sets him down. Arms wrapped around each other, Louis breathes Harry in.

His missing half is found.

Together and in love.

It all just seems too good to be true.

Louis hurriedly breathes out, pressing his forehead against Harry’s. “Am I dreaming?”

Harry smiles adoringly at Louis before capturing his lips with his own once more. Just as quickly, he pulls apart, leaving Louis with buckling knees.

_“Awake. Definitely awake.”_

-

_“So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> It would mean so much if you would be so kind as to comment, kudos, or rec it ralph, I'd be extremely grateful. Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> Or you can also say [hi](http://www.tommothetrain.tumblr.com) on tumblr. I track avatarlahey! And once again, here is a [playlist](http://8tracks.com/criminiall/closer-you-and-i%20) made by the wonderful Marta. 
> 
> (All the feedback so far is completely astounding, absolutely incredible. I have bursted into tears more times than I'd like to admit from all of the support. It means so much to me, personally. Thank you.)
> 
> Tumblr masterpost is [here](http://tommothetrain.tumblr.com/post/117437648245/closer-you-and-i-avatarlahey-h-l-with-side).
> 
> Sequel on the way :)


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